Swan Sister (8 page)

Mira’s mama was gone. Years before, she had taken her little sailboat out to catch the great silver fish of the Inland Sea, but a great wind came up and Mama did not return, nor was her boat ever found.

The aunt came to visit after Mama was lost, and she never went home. At first she cooked and cleaned and took the eggs to the village to sell them, but as time went on she stopped working, sat with her knitting, and demanded that Mira do everything.

One day Mira was fishing for their supper from the little wooden dock that jutted into the Inland Sea. Auntie
sat on the porch in front of the cottage, pretending to knit, but mostly shouting cranky and disagreeable things down the hill at Mira.

“There are no fish on that side of the dock! Move to the right where the little waves lap, or we shall all go hungry tonight.” Or, “Mind your worm, girl; fish don’t like soggy bait!”

Mira sighed and did as she was told. Suddenly, when her fresh bait touched the water, it was snatched by something large and heavy and bright silver.

Mira was a fine fisher. She played the fish carefully, never pulling too hard and never giving too much line, and soon the great fish was hers! She pulled it onto the dock with her net and was about to put it into her little wicker creel when the fish opened its mouth and spoke to her. “Fortunate girl, I am no mortal fish, but a magic fish! This has been a painful day for me. You are the second human to catch me. Release me now, as the old fisherman across the bay released me, and I will be forever in your debt.”

Mira knew the old fisherman across the bay. He and his old wife lived in a crusty barrel that had once been used to ship vinegar. She squinted across the bay to where the vinegar barrel once stood. Now a snug cottage hugged the hills.

“Good fish, I see that you are indeed a special creature, for you have turned the old fisherman’s vinegar barrel into a cottage.”

The fish looked troubled and answered, “The fisherman
would have released me, from a good heart, but his wife wanted the cottage.”

Mira’s heart swelled with pity. “I release you with my whole heart,” she said, and gently put the creature back into the dark blue waters of the Inland Sea.

The fish stood on its tail, looking very beautiful on the water. “Pretty maid,” it said, “you have done kindness today; may kindness come to you.”

The lazy Auntie had by now made her way to the dock, and she heard the fish speaking. She looked across the bay and spied the fisherman’s new cottage. She put two and two together and realized there was a fine cottage to be had. But she was a sneak who never said what she thought, but tried to get her way with smooth or spiteful words. Instead of asking for a better house, which was what she wanted, Auntie cried out to Mira, “Don’t let that magic fish go, for pity’s sake. Ask it for something—if not for your own sake, think of your poor cat!”

Mira hung her head and murmured, “Little fish, I would have let you go and asked for nothing, but for little Sasha’s sake, let a fish of the Inland Sea come to my line with ease so that he will eat tonight.”

The skies turned blue and little yellow birds fluttered by. “You are a thoughtful mistress to your pet, Mira. It is done.”

And with that the fish dove into the sea and was gone.

“Fish! You asked for fish! Look across the bay at that tidy cottage! With its porch and garden and everything
just as it should be, how happy would your cat have been in that cottage! How could you be so stupid?”

But what was done was done. Auntie stomped back to the house, and Mira threw her line again into the sea. Before the bait could touch the water, a great fish took it and Mira pulled it in. It was too big for her creel, so she pulled it onto the grass, where little Sasha played with it then ate her fill and fell asleep in a patch of sunshine.

Three more times Mira put her line into the water, and three more times a great fish took the bait and was pulled to shore.

Father was pleased and astounded. “Darling child,” he said, “with this fine catch we’ll have food for tonight and smoked fish to last us a month!”

But Auntie was not happy at all. She brooded and brooded about the cottage across the bay. Finally she could stand it no more, and she went to Mira’s little room in the attic, woke her out of a sound sleep, and said, “You thought of your little cat, and all you could think of was fish. Well, fine. But now think of your poor mother floating in the deep Inland Sea. Would she be happy to see her husband and her daughter and her dear sister living like beggars in this tiny house? Would she not want silks and jewels for those she loved? Would she not want servants by the dozens?”

Mira thought all night about her mother, and in the morning just as the sun was rising she called out to the waters of the Inland Sea,

“Magic fish, magic fish,

Listen to me,

Your friend little Mira

Wants something of thee!”

The water boiled and the air thickened and out from between the waves jumped the fish, looking at her curiously.

“You are not the first caller of my day,” the fish said. “That fisherman was by this morning. His wife wasn’t content with her cottage; now she wants a mansion. Look across the bay!”

Sure as her eyes were true, there across the bay where their vinegar barrel had once been and then the cottage, there now stood a great mansion of stone with a fine lawn and a great boathouse near the water’s edge.

“That is a lovely mansion,” Mira said, “but I have been thinking of my beloved mother, who sailed away when I was very small. Father cut a stone with her name and a prayer that she would return, but she never did. Could I have a yellow rose bush for that stone?”

“Go to your mother’s stone,” the fish said ever so gently. “It is done.” And with a flick of its tail it was gone.

Mira went to her mother’s stone up the hill from her cottage, and there, climbing over the worn surface, were the most beautiful yellow roses she had ever seen. The roses draped over the words her father had carved like a mother cradling her child.

Mira was very happy. She picked some roses and
trotted back to the house with little Sasha bouncing behind. When she saw her father and Auntie, she told them her story.

Her father took the roses with tears in his eyes and embraced his darling daughter. “You have done well, child, for nothing pleased your mother more than yellow roses. Perhaps she will smell their fragrance and so long to be home that the sea will give her back to us.”

But Auntie sat in front of the house knitting and brooding over the great mansion that stood now opposite their small house, across the bay of the Inland Sea.

And when night came, she crept to poor Mira’s room again and woke the girl out of a sound sleep. “You did well to think of your mother,” she growled into the girl’s ear, “but what of your father? He lives here in this poor, ugly house and slaves in the fields all day to grow a little grain. Does he not deserve your attention too? Why should he work so hard and long, straining himself to plant and harvest his fields, when he could be the lord of a grand mansion?” Then she left Mira, sure that her words would pain the gentle soul into wishing for a huge house and servants for her dear father.

And indeed, Mira did think of her father all night. She loved him very much. To see him working all day, bending over his hoe in the fields, was a pain and a worry to her.

So in the morning she woke up before the others and ran down to the water. There she sang out,

“Magic fish, magic fish,

Listen to me,

Your friend little Mira

Wants something of thee!”

The water boiled and the air thickened, and out from between the waves jumped the fish, looking at her even more curiously than the day before. There was a little smile on its pale fish’s lips.

“You are not the first caller of my day, pretty Mira. That fisherman came again. Now his wife wants a castle and will stand for nothing less. Look across the bay!”

Sure as her eyes were true, there across the water where their vinegar barrel had once stood and then the cottage and then the mansion, now there rose a magnificent castle with soldiers on the battlements and a great flag snapping in the tower.

“That is a powerful castle,” Mira said, “but I have been thinking of my darling papa, who toils over his hoe each day. Would it be too much to ask, dear fish, that his burden could be lightened with a strong horse and plow?”

“Go to your father’s shed,” the fish said gently. “It is done.” And it lingered a bit as Mira smiled and curtsied, then with a flick of its tail it was gone.

When Papa and Auntie awakened, Mira led them to her father’s farm shed, and there stood a fine, strong mare with a gleaming black mane and tail and great, heavy hooves. Leaning against the wall there was a plow, a harrow, and a heavy leather harness with shiny bells on it! And in the back of the shed was a tidy wagon to carry their farm goods to town.

Mira’s father gazed in astonishment. “What is this, my dear?”

And Mira told Papa about the fish and its wonderful gift.

“You are a good and loving daughter,” said Auntie, though the words burned in her mouth. “This horse and plow will make your father’s work much easier. Yet look across the bay. The fisherman and his wife have a great castle where their vinegar barrel once stood. It is a gift of the fish and could have been ours.”

“But we did not need a castle,” said Mira, gazing in surprise at her angry aunt. “We needed a horse and plow, so that is what I asked for.”

Her lazy aunt said no more but spent the day sitting by the fire in the kitchen, knitting and watching Mira bake the bread and wash the clothes. And always her eye slid over to the window beyond which the great castle of the fisherman and his wife stood.

That night she crept up to Mira’s attic and woke the tired girl up. “I have tried to help you think of others, stupid girl, but I can see it is no use. Think of your poor Auntie who came to this terrible, small shack to care for you and your lazy father after my foolish sister went gallivanting off to sea. I want a little peace, Mira. I want to be cared for and pampered. I want a life of luxury and ease, in green velvet, with blue flowers in my bodice. Do you not understand? If you cannot understand what I want,
you are a cruel and stupid girl and I’ll have no more to do with you.”

Auntie’s words cut poor Mira’s heart. She thought she was a good and loving niece. Did she not catch the fish, bake the bread, and keep the house as neat as a pin? She did not understand what more her aunt could want. She thought and thought until daybreak. She went to the edge of the Inland Sea and with tears in her eyes called out,

“Magic fish, magic fish,

Listen to me,

Your friend little Mira

Wants something of thee!”

The water boiled and the air thickened, and out from between the waves jumped the fish. It gazed at her with sorrow.

“Ah, Mira, you look so sad! What has made you feel so mournful? If I had known you were unhappy, I would have come before you called, yet you would not have been the first mortal I spoke with. That foolish fisherman’s wife wants to be an empress now and must have a palace. Just look!”

Sure as her eyes were true, there across the bay where the vinegar barrel had once stood and then the cottage and then the mansion and then the castle, there now stood a monstrous palace as big as a town. It had a dozen towers and many gates and armies of people in fancy dress walking in the garden. It stretched halfway around the bay, almost to the edge of her father’s fields.

“That is a noble palace!” Mira said, forgetting her own sorrow for a moment. She sat down on the dock with her feet dangling in the cool water of the sea and looked at the palace for a while. The fish came closer and watched as, finally, Mira could not hide her sadness, and tears dropped into the water near it.

“Please tell me what ails you,” the fish said gently, and it brushed a fin softly against her ankle.

“My Auntie came to stay with us after Mama went away,” Mira said, “and she is not happy. I cook and clean and catch fish for the table, but she says that she has no peace. She says that she wants to be pampered and live in luxury and ease with a green velvet dress and blue flowers in her bodice. She says she will hate me if I cannot give her these things. But what more can I do for her, kind fish? I try so hard already!” And tears filled her eyes again, dropping now on the fish’s head.

“You break my heart, gentle Mira. Will you not ask for something for your auntie? I can give her a mansion or a castle like the fisherman’s.”

Mira shook her head miserably. “I know better than to ask for such things. If Auntie is not happy with the sun on the water, good food on the table, people who love her, and a small cat at her feet, how will she be happy with a mansion? She will take her anger with her to her new home. She will hate everyone in the great house as she did in the small, for that is the way of the world. And that is why I cry. There is nothing at all I can wish for her that will make her happy if she is not happy now.”

The fish smiled gently at Mira. “Will you trust me to grant you a wish you have not made? I think I know a way to give your aunt what she wants.”

Mira nodded her head slowly, a smile of hope growing on her own lips.

“Go back to your house, Mira. I think Auntie is happy now.”

Mira ran back to the little house and flew into the kitchen. Auntie’s nightgown lay in a pile on the floor, and on the table stood a fine violet in a beautiful silver pot. Around the pot was a green velvet ribbon that matched the violet’s green velvet leaves. Delicate blue flowers with yellow hearts grew from the center of the plant.

Mira was amazed. Her aunt was all green velvet and blue flowers. She lived in a beautiful home. She would be pampered and cared for by Mira and her father, and she would sit on the kitchen table and be admired. She was the loveliest thing in the house.

Mira shook her head. Her darling fish had done it! It had found a way for Auntie to be happy, for everyone knows that flowers don’t get angry and are rarely ill-tempered.

She ran from the kitchen back to the water’s edge and called for her fish.