Chimes from a Deeper Sea

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 M P
Ericson

Cover image copyright
Algol -
Fotolia.com

This ebook edition
published 2015 by Byrnie Publishing

83 Ducie Street,
Manchester M1 2JQ

United Kingdom

All rights reserved

This is a work of
fiction. No similarity to any living person or recent event is
intended or should be inferred.

Smashwords Edition
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###

I never cared
much for the other boys. Handsome, yes, some of them: the flash of
teeth like foam on a wave, sunbright; trim muscles straining under
smooth skin. But not attractive - not in that way, not to me.

Though I
watched them, sometimes: loitered in the shade of palm fronds,
washed my toes in warm water right at the edge of the lagoon. My
favourite spot, there: a little aside from the village, close
enough to hear my mother's call, but far enough to be private with
my own thoughts.

Unless Hinu was
with me, little Hinu, my baby sister. She wasn't often, she
preferred the company of my middle sisters, who'd played with her
since she was small. I left them to it, I'd had my fill of
mothering them, it was sweet to watch them now croon and cuddle and
tickle as I had done, as my mother did with me, as girls in every
generation do throughout the eternal voyage of the world across the
endless sea.

Often now I
would sneak away, dawdle by the water's edge and watch light ripple
across the sand under the surface, and dream idly of my my own
future. Of marriage, and children, and a house of my own. And a
man.

I'd already
chosen one.

But it wasn't
one of those I'd grown up with, who I watched now push the boats
out into the lagoon and glide out towards the sea. I knew them,
they were friends, like brothers almost - even the ones not born
from my father's wives. I liked to live among them, had no wish to
lose their companionship, but I could not imagine them as husbands.
Or I could, but shuddered at the thought, as at some deep wrongness
seeping up from the cracks within the world.

No, this man
was something else entirely. A chief's son from another island. I
watched him now as he wandered along the beach, sleek and assured,
youthful next to my father. But he wasn't a boy, I knew that by the
strength of his body as he wrestled, by the depth of his voice as
he spoke in calm terms to my father or joked among his own men.
Most of all, I knew it by the way he looked at me: with respect. No
trace had I seen in him of the sniggers and lewd hints and
presumptuous stares that other youths clutched at to cover their
insecurity. He carried instead a dignity that made them look
clumsy, a reserve that made them look foolish. I could not regard
them with anything but pity or contempt, when he was near.

It was the
third time he'd visited us. I knew what he came for, because my
mother had told me. He wanted a wife.

A chief's son
and a chief's daughter. These matters were not settled in a hurry.
First messengers had come, and then gift-bearers, and then hostages
in exchange for our own, and finally the young man himself. Two of
my brothers had travelled back with him, and remained now at his
island home. They would stay there forever, if one of us girls
married him and went to live there as his wife.

One of us. Not
necessarily me.

I watched my
sisters with surreptitious envy. Five of them were of age to marry,
and all with gifts that outshone mine. Prettier, or kinder, or
better skilled at their tasks. He'd watched us cook and clean and
carry water, weave and plait and tease the kids. We'd watched him
dance and wrestle and handle his boat, then accepted gifts of
flowers and food from his hands. Which meant he knew enough to make
a choice now, and we enough to ask our mothers to take us back
within the house and not allow him to see us again.

None of us had
asked.

He was too
courteous to give any hints. Too mature to betray any uncertainty.
I had the sense that his mind was made up, and for the very best of
reasons. But he would give that sense, I was sure, no matter what
his decision might be - and whether or not I would find it to my
liking.

For myself, I
knew. Had known from the moment he first jumped ashore. I could see
that movement still, swift and elegant, certain as a lightning
strike. It slammed into my body, hard as if he'd been close enough
to touch, and from that instant I'd known he was the man I wished
to marry.

But the
decision was not mine. I'd told my mother, who'd promised to tell
my father. Beyond that, there was nothing I could do.

True, I'd seen
some girls hint and tease and throw suggestive looks - and most of
them had caught the man they wanted. But it wasn't my way, and even
if it had been this was not the right occasion. A marriage between
islands was too important to put at risk for the sake of vanity or
desire. We all knew that, different as we were. Six girls, and not
always the best of friends, as rivals for one man - but none of us
had sought to draw his notice or secure his good will. It was too
serious a venture, this. Already lives depended on it, hostages
from our island and from his. If anything went wrong, if either
party took offence, blood might pour. Old people still remembered,
and occasionally spoke about, times of war between the islands. We
dared not risk that.

"Do you want to
be alone?" Tuni, one of my rivals - and in truth, the one whose
grace and beauty I feared the most - slipped from the shade under
the palm trees and slid onto the sandy bank beside me. She dipped
her feet into the water and swished them as I had done, while I
envied her soft skin and lustrous eyes.

"Not any more,"
I said, because she was kind and good and it wasn't her fault that
she was beautiful too. "I'll miss you when you're gone."

She shrugged,
shoulders firm and lovely under the shell beads draped across them.
We all wore our wealth, a display to impress the visitor with a
sense of our father's power. "It might not be me."

No. It might
not. He had another four to choose from. As well as myself.

"And I don't
want to," Tuni added. "Not really. I'd rather stay here."

"You don't have
to." I forced myself to quell the eagerness that bubbled through my
voice. "If it would upset you so much. You can ask your mother to -
"

"Oh, I imagine
I'll get used to it. And it's for Father to decide."

I subsided. "Of
course."

Hinu peeked out
from among the trees. I waved to her.

"Come and play
with me," she whined. "I'm all alone."

Well, it was
better than worrying about things I couldn't change. "Come on,
then." I scrambled to my feet, padded across the warm sand to reach
her. Thrilled to the trusting touch of her little hand in mine,
held my other hand out towards Tuni. Because we were sisters still,
and always would be, no matter what decisions men made over our
futures.

Tuni laughed,
and scrambled to join us, and we skipped away. Played hide and seek
at the edge of the trees, stayed close to the shore to let the
breeze float around us and cool our bodies. Smelled the crisp scent
of the ocean as it dashed and swirled against the dense thick odour
of the jungle that smothered the interior of the island, felt the
slither of sand and tendrils under the soles of our feet.

Eventually we
settled some distance from the beach, on a rock that fell away
steeply into the open sea. No lagoon here, no shelter of shallow
water to wade through in safety, no pale sand shining under the
surface. Just dark cold depths under the vast unbroken surface of
the ocean.

I shivered a
little, and did not know why.

"It's over
there." Tuni pointed out across the endless expanse. "His island.
Mother told me."

"Is it?" I
squinted. Perhaps I could make out the hint of a distant shape,
like a palm frond torn loose by a recent storm and now floating on
the water. "I should like to go there. See if it's anything like
home."

"Maybe you
will."

I laughed at
that, because it was sweet of her to say so, and because I still
had hope. We strolled back to the village, and settled to our
tasks, while Hinu found a grandmother's lap to snuggle on.

Later, when all
the boats had come back and lay drawn up on the sand, while sunset
burned across the water and the sky, my father came and told us the
young man had chosen me.

###

"You'll like
it." My husband - his name was Perin, I had discovered - smiled at
me from the back of the boat. "It's not so different from what
you're 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.