15 Sylla

Calypsia, you lie asleep beside me. Too young to understand why I must leave you before morning. Too young to assume your birthright - a gift so precious that I must use my last strength to find it safe keeping.

I have much to tell you but little time. Your grand mother, Til, kept a secret, which I did not learn until her life flow ebbed. Til was never strong. Her first born, Aran, could not tolerate weakness and had left us long ago, so I cared fo her alone. When Til asked for one last breath I took her up to a sandbar near the shore. There she drew me close.

"Sylla, she murmured, "I am the last of the living Merrows."

"What are the Merrows?" interrupted Jake. "Remember, said Cal, "I told you about the stories? They were the guardians of the sea." "But I thought-" Cal turned back to the message.

'"Although Aran lies long in the water, you are the first born of my nature," Til whispered. "Come closer. Use this gift - use it as the spirit bids you." And she breathed into my moth - not the breath of days, but a source are vital. At once I felt woken from some half-life into brightness. I knew this was a Merrow breath, the gif of the Sea Spirit herself. It was also Til's last. But Merrows do not die as others do. They return to the Sea Spirit. Remember this, daughter - we are with you."

Cal paused. Jake could feel her tremble beside him as she rubbed her eyes. "Go on," he urged, "don't stop."

"After Til died I searched for Aran, unsure if I should know tis sister who had abandoned us long ago. At last I found her. But Aran had changed. Her skin and hair were dark with dye, her mood dark with distrust. She was unmoved by Til's death. Angry to hear of her gift. "The Merrow breath should pass to the first born!" she raged. "I was a strange-blood to her but I shall claim my inheritance. Be warned. I will take it - from you, or any daughter unfortunate enough to call you kin.

I fled from her. For many tides I wandered aimlessly through the ocean. But at last the fate stream brought me to the shore. There I lay, lost and weak. A Creeper was mending his nets nearby. He carried me back to the sea. But with each tide the waves returned me. The Creeper healed me and taught me to understand his tongue. As I listen to is stories I grew to love him. In turn I trusted him with my secret. So I stayed there, caught between two worlds - unable to leave the water, but unable to deny my heart. Then the Sea Spirit grew jealous, afraid that I might forsake the ocean. One night she cast a ferocious storm into the Overbreath. Lightning struck the Creeper's hut. Red fury consumed it. I tried to reach him, pulling myself over the sharp shingle, but the angry sea dragged me back. I could only watch from the crashing surf, wishing for legs to carry me across the storm.

No one came out through the door. Once more I drifted through the ocean. But this time not alone. I begin to feel the Creeper's child within me. When it was time I found an empty shore. There our son was born. The child breath easily under the water, but he had his father's form. Although he lay in the waves' cradle I saw he was stirred by windsong. I nursed at the water's edge until I know what I must do; I left him in his father's boat, at a place where he was certain to be found. Then I used Merrow skill to enable us to be together again one day, to give him the nature to inhabit our world. And I could him to stay ever close to the voice of the sea.

"It is you, son..." Cal hesitated, stumbling over the words, "it is you, my son, who revealed this message to your sister."