Billions of minnows lived and died without knowing anything about the Spirit of the Sea. Lautan didn’t hold dominion over all sea life, just the biggest and oldest creatures in its realm, such as the few black terrapins that still lived in Femturan Estuary.
These enormous terrapins had inhabited this salt marsh for centuries, since the port of Oromondo had silted over and become worthless as a shipping harbor. Barnacles crusted their shells; their black curved claws stretched as long as human fingers. Though the mining pollution irritated their eyes and undermined their diet, they built up immunity to the metallic ores’ worst effects.
The Eldest of them all, with beady eyes and a patterned shell as big and round as a carriage wheel, waited in the murky depths of the moat the morning of the Conflagration in Femturan. Of course, it was impossible that he could have known what was going to transpire: that Magi Two would throw a fireball at Skylark and that she would fall off her horse into the water into this exact spot.
A gnarled, old, ugly turtle, he could not foresee the future.
Nevertheless, he waited in the dirty murk.
The instant Skylark plummeted into the brackish water, he pushed off with his strong back flippers, catching her steaming, doused body on his hard shell. He swiftly bore her away underwater, hidden from sight, so that in less than a minute they swam out of the moat proper and into the salt bay.
Once he reached the edge of the open water he rose in the high grasses of the swamp to give the human a chance to breathe air. A hand weakly grabbed the ridge of his shell near his protruding, wrinkled neck. He kept his shell above the surface, making the reeds part with his four flippers. The brackish water and mud steamed with humidity, and wafting smoke made the air smell.
The human murmured one sound: “Thirsty.” This meant nothing to the terrapin, and he ignored it.
After two hours the Eldest entered the ocean proper, where the sand bottom fell away and gradually cleared of plant life. This was not his territory: the cold currents and waves moved with a force that made him uncomfortable. The weight on his shell had long become burdensome. He yearned for his warm habitat. But he was old. He knew patience.
A small group of sea lions approached with their typical, noisy commotion, sending ripples through the water.
“Urt! Urt! Urt! Urt! Urt! Urt!” they hailed the Eldest. These vocalizations meant nothing to the terrapin, but he was relieved they had finally arrived.
When the terrapin submerged, the human let go. She floated loosely on the surface while a fat sea lion dove underneath and took over as the human’s flotation support. His own part played, the Eldest headed back to his mud.
Sea lions prefer to swim in arches, diving and rising. To them, skimming the sea’s surface—keeping their backs in the air, the Thin—feels unnatural and awkward. And their black, slippery bodies provided no purchase for the human, nothing whatsoever for her to hold on to.
She be slipping right off, blubber-puss, one juvenile female said to another. Look out! There she goes!
Thou gripest, thou taketh her!
Okay! One wilt take her next. See, blubber-butt? Thou gotta keep thy back flat and thou gotta kink thy head a bit, make a wrinkle round thy neck, a handhold for her strange flipper. See? She grabbed on.
Bet she wilt nay stay long.
What wilt thou wager?
Bet thee a whiting.
Agreed.
Although sea lions prefer to hover near their feeding grounds along coastlines, this group, following orders, swam deeper into the ocean, heading away from the lowering sun. The human lost strength in her fingers and slid off to the side again. This time she didn’t float, but rather plunged into the colder depths. She didn’t struggle, and only a tiny trickle of bubbles surfaced. The eldest female barked an alarm.
Swim beneath the creature, she ordered one of the adult females. Lift her up to the Thin.
The human made strange choking noises when the sea lion got her back up into the Thin.
Don’t drown me, the human sent.
Not our fault, human. ’Tis bad enough to have to stay on the surface of the Thick for such a queer, misshapen thing as thee. Hey! Do nay grab at one’s whiskers!
Something had scorched the human’s skin, the sun had burned it further, and instead of providing relief, the night seawater scalded her again with its harsh salt and icy cold.
Burning. She sent to the sea lion.
Tell no one thy troubles. One saw two yummy octopi but one could nay dive to catch them because thou needst the Thin. One’s hungry. One has already raised a pup for the year. No one asked for thee.
The stars had come out by the time the group of sea lions, with a chorus of loud exclamations of, “Urt! Urt! Urt! Urt! Urt! Urt!” rendezvoused with the school of dolphins.
“Ee! Ee! Ee!” the dolphins chattered in response.
Where hast thou been, thou stuck-up bigmouths? Did thou get lost? Didst thou stop to chow down? Take this burden off one’s backs, ordered the leading sea lion.
Your Majesty! We be here!
Never mind all the chatter. Got the burden? Good riddance to human rubbish.
The sea lions swam off, barking with relief, and then dived deep, luxuriating in their freedom.
We have thee now, cried the dolphins. Thou art safe. Dost thou hear us? We will never let thee breathe water. We like air too. We suck it in and blow bubbles with it. Sweet sea air.
The human made no reply, but she still had life.
Thou art injured, Your Majesty. We will take thee to help. No more fear, no more worries. We be the best. Lautan loves us the most, because we are the swiftest and the smartest.
A few times she woke enough to retch out a gob of seawater.
Well done, Majesty, said the dolphin who was carrying her.
Help me, dolphins, she sent. I shall surely die without help.
We know how to help thee, Little Majesty, and we are happy to do it. We apologize for the rudeness of the whiskered flat-faced ones. They have no brains. We call them “shark fodder”—though not when they are about.
What a great adventure we are having! Shall we go a bit faster? Wouldst thou like to try some leaps? Flying be the most fun.
She grabbed on to a dorsal fin for a few minutes, but then her grip went slack.
Never mind, Little Majesty. Thou canst rest. The water lies still as glass tonight. We will ferry thee over rocks and chasms, coral and seaweed, crabs and jellyfish. Some flying fish bounce beside us. We cut through the water cleanly; one’s ripples barely foam. The moons hang low in the sky, watching us, making their friendly shimmer-glimmer. Perchance they smile through that little veil of clouds.
Hark! A pod of whales has joined us! They are always pleasant company. They do not compete with us for fish because they eat only krill and shrimp. Be it not rich and strange, to grow so big eating only the tiniest food? Truly, Lautan has the most magnificent creatures. We do nay often see whales. One wonders why they have come. We be better at ferrying thee—thou couldst fall off their backs and the whales wouldn’t even know it. (Tell them not, but they be a wee bit stupid.)
Oh! The whales have come to sing thee a lullaby. How nice of them. They love to sing, though not all creatures can hear them. Listen carefully, now.
A dozen massive shapes surrounded the school of dolphins, swimming underwater but nigh to the surface. The females sang their baby-calf comfort songs in tandem, with long repeats.
The moonlit water reverberated with their kind intention as it washed over the human barely clinging to life.
Mother is here,
Sweet little calf.
Stay close to me,
Swim near to me.
In the gray-green deeps.
My tail is strong,
My milk is warm;
Your aunts will watch
So no harm befalls thee,
Beloved of Lautan,
Spirit of the Sea.
Beloved of Lautan.
Both thee and me.