“Was that your library girl? She’s pretty, I’ll give you that. But what the hell was that speech about?”
Porter sighed. “Her name is Everly, Hunter. I told you we’d made friends with her. She’s genuinely interesting, and in case you couldn’t tell, she’s honest about everything. It’s refreshing.”
Hunter laughed shortly. “Give me a break, Porter. She won’t survive for ten minutes in this society with that kind of ‘honesty.’ No polish at all, no sophistication. I can’t believe you would break up with Alex for her.”
“I didn’t break up with Alex for her --” Porter’s voice rose, and he caught himself. He’d be better off using Everly’s method. “Hunter, try not to talk about things you don’t understand or know anything about.” Maybe a little heavy on the snark. Not sure Everly would approve.
Hunter bristled. “You’d better watch it, Porter. Maybe you don’t think much about your family or your reputation, but having an ironclad social circle is part of the deal. If you’re ever going to take over Biltmore, you can’t be exposing us to people who are after the money.”
It was Porter’s turn to laugh. “Who do you think all of these people are? The senator? The tech guy in the borrowed linen suit that’s too big for him? They’re all after the money, Hunter. But that’s my problem, because who else would take over Biltmore? You?”
Cheap shot, Porter, he thought to himself as he left Hunter sputtering in fury. Another minute and they’d be brawling like kids atop the glass-covered pool, and that would be a waste of an expensive dance floor. Everly would definitely not approve.
Ducking under the curious stares of people who’d witnessed with scene with Alex, Porter finally found Skylar in the house. “Oh, thank goodness. Where were you??” she asked.
“I went to find Everly, make sure she was ok. What happened?”
“Alex burst into tears, told everyone within earshot that you were a cheater, and ran away. My mother tried to stop her, but she basically just threw a tantrum and disappeared. You might want to lay low for a while. And, um, Everly probably should as well.” Skylar paused. “But never mind that - did you talk to her?”
Porter smiled. “A bit. I know as much about her as I did when I started out. Except, I do think she likes me. And I think I’m in danger of being obsessed with her,” he confessed.
Skylar laughed. “Port. You’ve been obsessed since you first saw her. Don’t pretend that it’s new.” He swatted at her as his ears turned red. “Well, forget tonight - let’s plan on taking her out soon. For lunch or something.”
“Sounds good,” replied Porter, distracted by what sounded like shouting outside. Making their way to the veranda, Porter and Skylar saw an elderly man, straw hat askew, shaking a finger in the direction of terrified Aunt Jana.
“I’ve warned you about these parties! I’ve told you they get too loud! How am I supposed to enjoy my dinner with a bunch of rich snits like you yammering just over the wall about stocks and bonds?”
Uncle Hal stepped in front of Aunt Jana, pushing her behind him. “Look, old man, I’ve told you a thousand times that I’m going to buy your dratted property and turn it into my wife’s shoe closet. You refuse to sell, you don’t get to complain about my social events."
The old man stood stock straight. “Oh, I think you’re wrong there, Chadbourne.” He turned and walked through the trees without another word, just as the sound of sirens in front of the house became audible.
“Blast it,” hollered Uncle Hal over the wall. “I’m going to poison you one of these days, old man, and then I’m going to buy your land in a fire sale.”
‘That's where Hunter gets it,’ thought Porter.
“You’ll want to be careful about public threats, Mr. Chadbourne. Turns a routine noise citation into a trip to the station,” said the police officer who had strolled onto the veranda.
Cursing, Uncle Hal herded Aunt Jana into the house with the policemen, while the guests beat a hasty path to the exit.
“Who was that guy?” Porter asked Skylar.
“Harry Wexford,” she said, giggling. “Mom and Dad think he’s crazy because he always complains about their parties and won’t sell his tiny patch of land, which is worth a fortune. You’ve never seen his little house on the beach? It’s adorable, especially in the middle of these giant marble houses. Anyways, he used to be a sea captain or something - I remember when Hunter and I were little, he’d tell us stories about his ships.”
“I never knew he was there,” said Porter. “Sounds kind of interesting, though - do you ever go talk to him now?”
Skylar shook her head. “Not for years and years. I bet he thinks we’re all - you heard him - snot-nosed rich snits. But let’s try anyway. At the very least he deserves an apology for the death threat.”
Sneaking through the crowd on its way out of the Chadbourne house, Skylar and Porter ran the several hundred yards down the winding beach road. Adjacent to the towering stone wall bordering the Chadbourne property, they came upon a tiny stone cottage with a gabled roof. Smoke rose in a thin plume from the chimney, a nod to the cooler Southampton evenings, and the wooden-ledged windows had small panes of puckered glass. Porter stepped on the worn "Welcome" mat that would have sent his aunt into fits of “tackiness,” and lifted the heavy brass knocker on the blue door, letting it down with a crash.
A minute later, the door was wrenched open. “What do you want?” demanded Harry Wexford from behind menacing bushy eyebrows.
Skylar cleared her throat. “Mr. Wexford, you probably don't remember me - I'm Skylar Chadbourne. From next door. My brother Hunter and I used to visit you a long time ago. Anyways, I just wanted to apologize to you about the party...you have every right to be upset.”
But Harry Wexford had already forgotten his anger, and the brows had lifted to reveal a pair of twinkling blue eyes. “Skylar, my dear! I wondered what had become of you, so long it's been since I saw you. You were just a little thing, always coming over for stories and a bit o' hot chocolate, isn't that right? And this, is this young Hunter grown up now?”
Porter held out his hand. “Porter Biltmore, sir - I'm Skylar's cousin.”
“Well, you're both welcome,” said Harry, ushering them into the cozy living room with its crackling fire. A large window at the back gave Harry spectacular views of the darkening sea. “I was actually going to make some tea, but for you, Miss Skylar, I could be persuaded into hot chocolate?”
Skylar smiled. “Thank you so much, Mr. Wexford, we'd love some.”
Porter glanced around the living room as Harry busied himself with a pot of hot chocolate on the little gas stove in the kitchen. Faded photographs of Harry in uniform, tall and imposing, flanked the fireplace, which boasted a large iron anchor on one side and a lacquered ship's wheel on the other. Just outside the window were a pair of wooden deck chairs, with a pipe smoldering lazily in an ashtray between them.
Harry followed Porter's gaze out the window. “Aye, the mermaids are out tonight.”
Porter raised an eyebrow in Skylar’s direction, but she shook her
head at him. Too late, Harry had seen the look.
“It's no use thinking I’m mad, young man. I've spent more time at sea
than most people on this earth, and we old mariners know a lot of things that
aren't spoken of in polite society.”
“Mr. Wexford - Harry - could you tell Porter a little bit about
your ship? I remember you always had such exciting stories...”
Porter interrupted. “And is that a bit of an accent, sir?”
Harry grinned. “Aye. Call me Harry, please. I was born in
Scotland, but came to New York as a tiny lad with my mum after my dad died.
Joined the Navy, didn't I, and worked my way up to the head of Military Sealift
Command. What we do, son, is replenish ships at sea - transport fuel and
supplies so that they don't have to come back to port. The tricky part is
anticipating needs and sending out military and other supplies before ships get
into trouble, especially in dangerous parts of the world. We also do special
missions for defense operations, working with submariners and the like.”
Porter was impressed. “That sounds fascinating, sir...Harry. How
long were you in the Navy?"
“Oh, forty years. Made some great friends in the service.” Harry
handed two steaming cups of hot chocolate to Porter and Skylar, glanced out the
window again and gestured towards a faint ripple near the horizon. “That’ll be
the makara, there. The old sea creature,” he explained to his guests.
Porter snickered in spite of himself. “Harry...we’re not little
kids anymore. Do you really expect us to believe in things like mermaids and
sea monsters?”
Harry retrieved his pipe from the tray outside and sat in the
armchair in front of the fire, motioning to Skylar and Porter to sit on the
worn leather sofa. The light from the fire lit up the crags in Harry’s face as
he spoke.
“Young Porter...let me ask you a question. Do you believe in
extraterrestrials? Not like E.T., but do you believe that there is life
somewhere other than on this green Earth?”
Porter thought for a moment. “I suppose...given the size of the
universe, it would be strange if this were the only planet to have life on it.
But I don’t believe in movie-type aliens.”
“Neither do I, Porter, neither do I. But think of this. In the
1500s, Magellan believed that the sea had infinite depth. It wasn’t until the
1800s that deep-sea exploration began, and if you read Twenty Thousand Leagues
Under the Sea, you’d think that the sea was bounded by nothing but rock. It
took until 2012 for a man to pilot a solo mission to the bottom of the Mariana
Trench, which is the deepest known point under the sea. And it’s only been done
once. Because even with the most sophisticated equipment, it is nearly
impossible to spend much time near the sea floor, and more impossible still to
try to examine anything or bring back samples.”
“Why is that, Harry?” Now Porter’s curiosity had been piqued.
Several of the Biltmore deals had involved development of deep-sea equipment,
including unmanned submarines.
Harry puffed on his pipe. “The pressure down there is difficult to
withstand, not to mention that it’s total darkness. Developing lights that can
function at that depth was no easy feat.” Harry leaned forward. “My
great-great-grandfather was a young scientist on the HMS Challenger.” Taking in
their blank stares, he laughed.
“The Challenger sailed in the 1870s, and was meant as a sort of
floating laboratory, entirely to explore what was down deep. The scientists on
board found over 4000 new species of marine life...at least, they were new to
us at the time. And those were just the species that were documented for the
public.”
“What do you mean,” asked Skylar, her eyes wide. “Were some
species left undocumented?”
“Aye, Miss Skylar. In these modern times, we accept that certain
things are kept secret - classified, they call it - by governments to protect
the public, right? Because while fairy stories can be laughed at, there will
always be ignorant people who are afraid of realities that they don’t
understand. If humans can be afraid of different-colored humans, imagine how
they would feel about powerful creatures living at the bottom of the ocean.
Creatures of all shapes and sizes, some with powers far beyond human
capability. Those were the undocumented findings of the HMS Challenger. A
confirmation of what mariners had known for thousands of years, but could never
prove. You come back to shore after a long sail and tell people you’ve barely
escaped a sahuagin - one of the bloodthirstiest human-marine creatures in the
world - and they laugh, because they’ve never seen one. In time, you convince
yourself that all you saw was a shark.”
Harry paused for effect. “Mermaids, now. Mermaids are different.”
He stood and walked to the bookshelf, pulling down what looked like an ancient
volume covered with dust. Coughing, he smacked it once, which blew dust up
Porter and Skylar’s nostrils as well. “Do you believe in Darwin’s theory? That
humans descended from chimpanzees?” Porter and Skylar nodded. “Is it then so
difficult to believe that other species have humanoid characteristics as well?
That humans have other sibling species?”
Porter didn’t have an answer. This was crazy. But Skylar was
listening raptly...and she was usually skeptical of everything.
“Mermaids - excuse me, mer-folk - are the closest to humans of all
sea creatures. The divergence must have been tens of thousands of years ago, no
one knows. But there is a reason that humans have talked about mer-folk for as
long as we’ve been sea-faring - because aside from the fish near the ocean
surface that we eat, mer-folk are the only other sea-dwellers who spend time at
the surface.”
“Here,” continued Harry, handing the book carefully to Porter.
“See what you make of that.”
Porter ran his hand over the cover. Glinting under the coating of
dust were gold-embossed letters: “The Confidential Memoirs of Edward Wexford
from The Voyage of the HMS Challenger.”
“Harry,” asked Skylar excitedly, “Was that the book you showed me
years ago, with the story about the terrible storm that came out of nowhere and
swept crewmembers overboard, along with most of the samples that the ship had
collected so far?”
“That’s right, my dear. But that storm didn’t come out of nowhere.
Dr. Thomson - he was the scientist heading the Challenger’s expedition - became
greedy as the expedition grew more successful. When they had an opportunity to
meet with the Marimundus, he demanded the return of the Alexandria library,
which would have completely eclipsed every other Challenger acquisition. It
would have forged the link between the ancient human world - antiquity - and
the modern world. We don’t know if the library is in fact in the Marimundus’
keeping, but either way it was an audacious demand by Thomson, and the ship
paid dearly for the insult. They recovered, of course, and came home to
enormous acclaim - but Edward Wexford preserved the story so that certain
members of the future generations would know the truth.”
Porter and Skylar must have looked completely blank, because Harry
sighed heavily and looked out at the now-black sea. “Let me start at the
beginning...or at least, the beginning of what I know. You young ones must be
hungry - I’ve got some excellent chowder in the kitchen that I just made this
afternoon. Interested?”
Skylar nodded eagerly, and Harry rose and headed to the kitchen.
As all sorts of clankings commenced, Porter ran a finger over a bookmarked page
in the old book. Opening it carefully, he squinted to read the handwritten
notes.
The rising out of the ocean of the High Mermaid Xarena with key
members of the Marimundus was a sight to behold this morning, although we’d
been told to expect them. Thomson led the discussion regarding how far into
mer-waters we would be permitted to explore, and which creatures we could
expect to encounter. Smaller than that is the number of creatures we will be
allowed to take back as samples. The Marimundus wants no killing of life within
clan waters. But they seem to understand the importance of our expedition, and
that more human knowledge of sea life could mean more respectful human
explorations. At least, greater dialogue between mer-folk and humans seems to
be their goal. I fear very much that Thomson does not share this hope, that he is
holding rather a tight set of demands from these creatures whose powers are
storied but untested by our small expedition...”
Porter shut the book as Harry came back into the room, bearing a
tray with three enormous bowls of chowder, swimming with flecks of cream and
cracked pepper, and a fourth full of salt crackers. “Made them myself,” he
winked at Skylar, “I don’t trust those so-called oyster crackers you find in
stores nowadays.”
As Porter and Skylar settled back onto the sofa with bowls and spoons,
Harry took his own chowder and sank back into his armchair.
“Let me begin with what we think was the beginning...the original
legend is from Asia, and tells of a great flood, similar to that for which Noah
built his ark. But this was a natural flood, and threatened the first man
created. To save this man, God created an avatar - a sort of incarnation - in the form of a
fish with a human torso, named Matsya. Matsya saved man through his power to
control the sea and wind, but established a mer-folk to act as guardians of the
sea, watching humans from afar and intervening when necessary to maintain the
land-sea balance. The original mer-clan were called the Matsyajana, and Matsya
decreed that the ruler of the mer-folk would forever be a High Mermaid.”
“Over time, mer-folk traveled under the sea as humans did over
land, and many more clans emerged, according to the stories. To unite the
clans, the Marimundus formed - a sort of inter-clan government. The
matri-mermaid, the female head of each clan, represented her people in the
Marimundus. The matri-mermaid of the ruling clan would automatically become the
High Mermaid of all the mer-folk. Most stories have the Matsyajana as ruling
clan.”
Porter and Skylar looked mystified. Harry noted their faces, but
plunged onwards. “Do you know the story of the library at Alexandria?”
Porter knew vaguely, but of course Skylar piped up. “Well, many
historians believe that during Caesar’s march on Alexandria in 48 B.C., a great
fire destroyed most of the library, and the city later fell into the sea. I
don’t believe any historian is certain of whether the fire was started by
Caesar to destroy his own ships and frustrate Ptolemy’s forces, or whether
Caesar was attempting to burn Ptolemy’s navy in port, and the fire then spread
to the library. It was a huge loss - the library supposedly collected all
writings and other forms of knowledge that existed in the known world at the
time.”
Porter look at her, momentarily distracted from the unbelievable
yarn Harry was spinning. Maybe Skylar should be on Jeopardy. She’d win enough
money that neither of them would never have to use Biltmore cash again.
Harry smiled. “Excellent, young Skylar. But in the story told by
mariners, the library still survives to this day...in a way. Stories tell of a
relationship built between the ruling mer-clan and the Ptolemies, who sought
the approval and assistance of the Marimundus to make Alexandria the most
important city in the world. They promised the Marimundus consultation on
acceptable shipping routes, which would not disturb clan waters, and offered to
house the shared wisdom of land and sea in a massive Library. In exchange, the
Marimundus would grant ships traveling from the East and the West through
Alexandria safe passage and clear waters in the port. We don’t know which clan
ruled the Marimundus at the time, but whispers of legend describe a plan
conceived by the High Mermaid during Caesar’s march, for Ptolemy XIII to report
the Library as burned and blame Caesar. The ruling mer-clan didn't approve of
Caesar's ruthless invasions. Meanwhile, the Marimundus was creating under-sea
copies of the Library’s store for human and merfolk posterity. Once the
Ptolemies no longer ruled Alexandria, relations with the mer-folk declined.
After the Roman emperor Caracalla ordered the genocide of Alexandrians, the
High Mermaid was alarmed. She invoked the Edict of Matsya to guard the sea
against human transgressions, creating the massive tsunami that destroyed
beautiful Alexandria for the last time. And because she believed humans did not
deserve knowledge that they would disregard to commit evil deeds, the High
Mermaid ordered the re-copied Library to be kept under the sea. All of us old
mariners believe that the Library is still there somewhere, deep under the sea,
being guarded by the mer-folk."
Porter didn’t know where to begin. Luckily, Skylar did. “But if
there are several clans, isn’t it possible that they have the same differences,
politics, wars, etc - that we do? Why would sea creatures be worthy of having
access to all of that knowledge, but not humans?”
“That’s an excellent question, and one that I don’t have an answer
to, sadly. I believe that there will be a reckoning between mer-folk and
humans, and that reckoning speeds towards us faster each day with the sudden
incursions humans are making in the sea. When it happens, perhaps we will find
out whether the Library has in fact been saved, and find a way to all share in
the knowledge.”
Porter rubbed his temples and stared into his empty bowl. “So...you’re
telling me that you and all of your shipmates, all of your old colleagues in
the Navy...you all believe in these...mermaids?”
Harry looked at Porter steadily and nodded. “I know how it sounds,
son. But I’ve seen some of these creatures with my own eyes. I and the
government will deny it on official record, but there were always a few within
the service - in every country - tasked with building relationships with them.
Relationships that began to fail over the course of my career, despite my best efforts.
With the increase in deep-sea drilling, over-fishing, overall interference in
clan waters, many mer-folk and other sea creatures have become vengeful,
creating storms that cause more nautical human disasters than ever before. What
did you say your last name was, again?” Harry suddenly demanded of Porter.
“Biltmore, sir.”
Harry’s face hardened. “Biltmore of the Biltmore Fund?” When
Porter nodded, Harry’s brows knit together. “Do you know that that company has
been behind more dangerous deep-sea projects than any other in the world? Your
family makes its money on extractions from the sea bed, but at a terrible cost
to marine life all over the world. I’ve fought against Biltmore projects for
twenty years, and even in my retirement I’ll fight still.”
The old man’s fierceness transformed him; Porter and Skylar could
instantly see the imposing commander that he’d once been. Porter could muster
no defense. Hadn’t he been thinking the same thing about the Biltmore Fund as
he’d read through the company books? Here, then, was confirmation of his fears.
At least it was something he could actually believe, of all of Harry’s stories
that evening.
“Sir - Harry - I didn’t know much about the family business until
recently. But I’m supposed to take over one day...and if that happens, I’m
going to do everything I can to change our operations.”
Harry softened. “Well, well. You’re just a young man. You can’t be
faulted for what your family has done before you. But I’m telling you, Porter -
the key to human progress is more open and constructive relationships with the
sea, which means compromises with the mer-folk who guard it. You trust me on
that.”
Porter rose from the sofa, piling his bowl on Skylar’s and setting
them on a side table. “I don’t quite know what to believe, Harry. But I
appreciate the advice.”
What was he supposed to believe? That mermaids ruled the sea?
Right. Porter’s own house and bed, with their relative normalcy, had never
seemed so inviting. “We should be going. But I’m sure I’ll see you around."
Harry waved off their attempts to clear the bowls. “Just think
about it, Porter. I’m an old man, not a crazy one.”
As Porter turned to leave, he thought of one more question. “Harry
- these mermaids you say exist, who monitor humans and keep things in
balance...how are they supposed to do that if they can never come onto land?”
“Ah,” said Harry, disappearing into his kitchen. “There is an
ancient legend of a Maanga, created by Matsya, which allows the Matsyajanas to
transform for some period of time to walk on land. In some stories, the Maanga
is a shell, and in others, a piece of jewelry like a necklace. I’ve even heard
that it’s just a powerful spell cast by the High Mermaid on members of her
clan. No one knows whether mermaids really walk among us...although they
certainly come awfully close.”
Porter fleetingly thought of Everly’s golden chain, then
suppressed a laugh and opened the front door for Skylar. “Goodnight, Harry,”
they said in unison as they stepped out into the starry evening.
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