The Octopus Queen (A Little Mermaid Retelling)

16 - Rescue

I grip the railing at the bow of the boat, trying to ignore the stinging pain in my upper arm. Behind me, Mistress Krier's invective-filled speech is cut short as a teenage dockhand stuffs a handkerchief in her mouth and manhandles her into a chair for attacking me. I sigh; it's bad enough that we're sailing in the middle of a storm to find her son, I don't need to listen to her screaming, too.

The boat rolls as the waves crash up against the hull and my feet skid sideways on the slick floor. Rain splatters into my eyes; I dash a sopping wet sleeve across my face and stare out onto the angry sea. When the Kriers came banging on our hut's door this afternoon, begging for help, I hesitated. Not because I didn't want to search for the boy, but because I didn't believe I could do it. My talents, I told them, were connected to the sea—not people. I could sense fish and dolphins and whales, but not little boys.

"Please," Mistress Krier sobbed as Master Krier jangled a pouch full of silver in my face.

Yes, it makes me a morally-poor person, but the sight of that silver did prove motivating.

In a village such as ours, it's not unheard of for boys to test their mettle against the sea on a dare. Even during storms. Typically, the boy is instructed to sail out in a questionable dinghy or row boat around the Wall, to the end of the processing docks, and back.

Sometimes, during storms such as this one, they drown.

According to his friends, young Master Krier made it as far as the processing docks and disappeared near the piers. No one says it out loud, but the outcome is grim: there are massive pipes under there that dump waste from the processing plant into the sea. Anyone tossed overboard is surely doomed to drown as the waves crash up against the pipes.

Other vessels besides the one we're on trudge ahead, the wind ripping at their sails. It's risky business having so many boats out during a storm. If one is blown off-course, it can plow into another vessel and we'll all sink.

I'd rather not die this afternoon.

No, I'd rather be home, safe and warm, working on my charms and potions. Or ensconced back at the bookstore with Klaus, the air heavy with the scent of new and aged paper. We talked long after the meal and wine had been finished, about magic and books and philosophy, my walls falling down one by one as the day stretched into evening. But he still managed to have me home before dark, as he had promised my father.

Yes, I would like to be anywhere but here.

Seawater splashes my face like a cold, hard slap, bringing me back to the present. Spitting salty saliva over the bow, I shake my head and drag heavy wet locks away from my eyes. My senses stretch across the water, but all I can feel are the fish trembling far below the surface, waiting for the storm to pass.

"Bippi," I whisper, unsure if the octopus can even hear me, "what do I do?"

I haven't seen Bippi much since my initiation. Perhaps, I wonder as I grip the slick railing, he has returned to the Grey God, leaving me to my own devices. Maybe his abandonment of me is my own fault—I have been too confident as of late.

We're nearing the end of the processing plant's docks now. Fishermen, lashed to the railing, lean over the side of the boat, peering into the grey, angry waves. I hear them shouting between themselves that the boy is lost. Behind me, Mistress Krier wails around her gag and struggles against the ropes binding her to the chair.

"Think, Sina."

I jolt and nearly lose my grip as a small black tentacle curls around the rail, followed by the rest of Bippi. The octopus rolls over the bow and plops onto the deck, big blue eyes staring up at me unblinkingly.