There is no time for rest and recreation

“Oh … yes, of course. That’s … smart,” Líadan said, nodding, ignoring the pangs of something like disappointment that went through her. Straightening her dress, she threw her cloak back around her shoulders and then lightly touched his arm to let him know she was ready. “I will speak to my friend. If she can help, how should I let you know?”

“Leave me a note with the barmaid in the inn I am staying in,” he advised. “That should be safe enough. If anyone can be considered safe in this case.” Cederic paused, thinking. “I really hope this works. For your sake. You’ve been through enough, I feel like I should apologise for some of it, at least.”

“They will … I’m sure they will,” Líadan said, with more confidence than she really felt. Her legs had more or less separated now, so she slowly pushed herself up to her feet, wobbling only a little. She turned to Cederic, inexplicably warmed by his saying ‘we’, the quiet reassurance that they were in this together now. “Thank you.”

He remained facing the other way until he was fairly sure she was dressed. “I would offer to walk you home but it probably wouldn’t be wise to draw too much attention to us spending time together. I suggest we split at the edge of the forest.” He sounded almost apologetic.

“My family would never set foot on land. They never understood why I was so interested in humans to begin with,” Líadan said, shaking her head. For what must have been the thousandth time she wondered what they believed had come of her. Would they want her back, if they knew what she had done? 

Remembering Lir’s anger, she shivered. “If I could … but I don’t know how I would begin to convince him, when he is the one who banished me.”  

Cederic was running out of ideas. “Well, let’s hope your... friends will be able to help,” he gave her an unsure smile. “We’ll figure something out.” It was an empty promise because he wasn’t quite sure what was there to do, but he would try his best to right the wrong that was done to her. It was his duty and he felt (at least partially) responsible.

“I … don’t know. This is not what I wanted,” she said, gesturing to her tail, which was beginning to turn pink and start to separate out into legs once more. “I miss my family, and I feel constantly afraid here. But …” Looking up at him, brows drawing down into a frown and eyes melancholy, she felt compelled to honesty. “I never felt like I entirely belonged at home. It was why I started coming to shore in the first place. If I do ever manage to get back, I can’t help wondering if I will just feel that way again.”

“I can imagine,” Cederic frowned. It must’ve been incredibly hard, knowing she would most likely never be able to have both; the place she loved and the place where her family was. It was hard to imagine. “I suppose bringing your family here is out of the question, correct?” he thought out loud. “What about convincing the god of the seas to let you pass back and forth?” It was unlikely, but he had to put the option out there.

“He caught me.” The memories were unpleasant, more so with the hindsight of what they would bring, but she found that with Cederic they did not hurt quite as much to speak of. “But he said he wouldn’t harm me, and he seemed so honest … I came back to see him, when I shouldn’t have.” She lapsed back into quiet, chewing on her lip. Perhaps she should have been more worried about revealing herself again, having been all but forced into it. But she found she trusted Cederic. It felt different with him; the Baron had been charm and sweetness, coaxing her, seducing her, she realised now. Cederic was … much more plainly honest and open. She felt safer. 

She chuckled. “I don’t think sailing on the ocean is the same as living under it. But it is … it is beautiful. There is so much beneath the waves that you can’t even imagine. But there is much the human world has that we don’t. Like books! All our stories and histories are told in songs. I never imagined things could be written down.”

Cederic had no idea the baron was so bad. He never had a good feeling about him, always considering him a spoiled brat but the reeve never would’ve thought he’d be capable of something like this. As she spoke, Cederic found himself growing angrier and angrier with the man. He hoped, for his own sake, that their paths would never cross again. “If you could choose, without any complications or consequences, where would you like to be? Would you want to go back to your family or stay, well, here?” He assumed a combination of both would be preferable, but he wanted to know; if she only wished to go home then he’d try hard to get her there.

Líadan was quiet for a moment; it was still instinct, deeply ingrained, to protect her people from humans and it felt like a betrayal to give up their secrets. But she had also been so lonely for so long, it was like seeing sunrise after a long night to finally speak the truth about herself and her home. And had he not proven himself trustworthy? 

(But she had thought that before.)

“South and west of here, several days’ swim,” she said finally. It was not so precise a location that he would find her home from it, at least. “My home does not really have a name in the human tongue, but in my language it is called Niniachnen. I suppose, roughly translated, it would mean ‘The Land of Rainbow Waters’.”  

It was so named for the variety of corals from which her people made their homes and constructed most things. They shimmered all sorts of colours beneath the waters, reds, blues, greens, golds, oranges and pinks alike.

“We live deep. It is safer that way for us, to keep to ourselves and not venture above the water. But I was always fascinated by the ships I would find resting on the bottom of the ocean, the things that filled them. I visited many lands before Durham, to see how humans lived, but that was the first time anyone saw me,” she explained.

Cederic understood why she would distrust humans and realised too late it was quite inconsiderable of him to ask about her home and her people. “Did you show yourself to the Baron or did he catch you?” He tried hard not to sound as if he was interrogating her. He often found himself using the tone he was so used to. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he added quickly.

At her description of her land, Cederic smiled. “Your home sounds lovely. I have never sailed on the ocean, actually.” It was not something he thought he’d miss or strive for but when she spoke of it, it made him almost regret his life didn’t take him to sailing and most likely never will.

“No, just sea ones,” Líadan said with a smile, adjusting the skirt of her dress over her tail in the hope that the extra warmth would speed up the process a little. It usually took several minutes for her legs to separate completely. “Lakes aren’t big enough for whole colonies. But there are different … well, kinds of mermaids, I suppose. We different depending on which part of the ocean we come from, the same way humans do from different countries.”

“Where do you come from, actually?” Cederic asked. “Are you far from home? What brought you to Durham in the first place?” His homeland brought her nothing but pain and sorrow and he was curious about how she got there. “Do your people live deep in the ocean or close to the shores?”

“I can’t remember the last time something was easy,” Líadan said with a rueful smile, pulling her hair back and tying it into a loose braid with a lace taken from her dress. She had found her hair could stay wet but so long as she kept it from dripping too much on to her skin it would not interfere with the rest of the magic that turned her back into her human form. “Yes - prolonged contact, anyway. A few drops might make some scales appear, but the tail won’t … it’s not too much trouble much of time, but there are times,” she explained. “The storm a while back was rather awkward. I had to barricade myself in the bakery.”

Cederic nodded, though he wasn’t at all able to imagine what it must feel like. “Are there any lake mermaids? Or just sea ones?” he asked, scratching his nose. Stories his mother used to tell him when he was a child were becoming real in front of his eyes and Cederic had a feeling he would have to do a lot of research on this to keep the facts straight. It seemed incredibly fascinating at the same time. 

“Oh, well … I just need to let it dry, but I suppose it might be odd to watch …” Liadan said, faintly embarrassed, as she took her tail out of the lake and curled it up where it could catch the remaining sunlight to dry quicker. Reaching for her dress, she pulled it on over her head so she would be more covered as her body changed and would not make him feel uncomfortable. “Yes, that’s probably wise,” she nodded, feeling a pang at the idea of having to keep away from the water again. “Thank you, for helping me.”

“It’s alright,” he said automatically. Then he added, “You can thank me once this is all over. This is not going to be easy.” He was risking his own life in this but it wasn’t fair that this happened to her and he couldn’t just leave it be. Besides, he had this unexplainable need to protect her no matter what. Cederic briefly glanced over his shoulder to check if she was alright, but tried not to disturb her privacy, “So does this happen every time you come in contact with water?” he asked, trying to act as if this was all absolutely normal.

Líadan nodded. Many of the Atlantians had left, she knew, after an agreement with the Fairy Queen, but Cyra was still at the court. She would have to be careful about contacting her, though. If people saw them speaking and then a short while later Cyra’s men appeared to have killed Líadan, it might be suspicious … oh, it was all so complicated. 

“I will,” she promised. “Once my legs are back.” She waved at her tail, which she had been keeping in the water as they spoke but would need to let dry soon so she could return to the city. “So, if I can … make it look like I’m dead, and they leave, then what? I just carry on here as normal?”

“Right, do you... Do you need some privacy for that?” he asked, standing up. He took off his cloak and set it on the ground before stepping away, looking towards the forest. “That’s the idea, yes,” he nodded. “Given they buy it, of course. You might need to lay low for a few weeks to make sure they are really dead but you should be fine, afterwards.” He doubted a baker’s apprentice would get enough attention from the crowds to have the word about her spread all the way back to Durham. A mermaid, on the other hand... “You might want to avoid changing into your... water form for some time.”

Líadan gave a small, weary smile. “I think it would get a little dull after a while. And lonely.” It seemed there was very little choice left but to seek help elsewhere. The thought of going back to the sorceress sent an unpleasant shiver down her back; there was no telling what she would ask in return, and Líadan felt guilty enough over their last encounter. Helen would probably be willing to help, but there wasn’t much she would be able to do. Which left Cyra. Líadan had no wish to give her more trouble after everything she had already been through, but she could not see what else to do. “I have a friend I might be able to ask to help.”

Her eyes moved slowly over his face. She still felt like she didn’t quite have the measure of him; it was a relief to know she hadn’t been entirely wrong, that the gentleness and kindness she had seen at first were truly there … but if he had not met her beforehand, it was likely she would be in chains right now. There were many layers to him, and to her own surprise she wanted to keep peeling them back and learning more. “Perhaps,” she smiled. “But that doesn’t take away from what you are.”

“Here, in Camelot?” A spark of hope warmed his heart a little. If she knew of someone who could help in any way, maybe not all was lost. “That’s a start.” Somehow, staying here by the lake with her felt like a safe place, for both of them. Cederic wanted to believe they could just stay there forever, but knew it was not possible. If not for her, then his men would eventually start looking for him and the lake was not that far from the city. “You should probably reach out to them as quickly as possible,” he said, sighing.

“A thousand each?” Líadan’s eyes widened; she had not been thinking it would be quite so much. Even a thousand alone was a great sum. She bit down on her lip, thrown back to wondering if there was any real way out of this. “No, I don’t. I thought … I might have a way to get some, but not that much. And then, I suppose, they could still be bribed to tell where I am …” She sighed, shoulders slumping. Perhaps trying to stage her death was the best option.

Looking at him, she felt a kind of tender admiration and gentle bewilderment, and something else, underneath, that she did not think she had a name for. “You are … much kinder than I have come to expect from most humans,” she said quietly.

“It is a possibility, we can’t be sure,” Cederic replied gloomily. He didn’t even consider seeking aid in the castle, as Liadan was still a wanted runaway and he doubted the king’s men would believe their word over the Baron’s. Trying to come up with an alternative, he scratched his chin. “I don’t suppose living in a lake is something you’d prefer, eh?” he asked, coming up empty.

He looked at her almost puzzled. It was a little heartbreaking, realising the woman before him has not encountered enough kindness in humanity. He, too, was source of her misery for so long. And now he was powerless in trying to help her. “Thank you,” Cederic said, giving her a small smile. “Though I dare to say there are many kinder than I am.” He never considered himself a particularly kind person, mostly because his occupation didn’t allow him to show much kindness.

Líadan looked away slightly, wondering if there might be another solution. If they were only interested in money the most obvious choice would be to pay them, but how to get the coin for that? Her mind flashed to the performers in the square. She could weave a song that people would stop to hear, encourage them to be generous in leaving payment … although most people in the village had little enough as it was. If she could get into the court, though, the lords and ladies there would have plenty to spare, so long as they were in the right frame of mind. “How much money do you think it would take to persuade them to believe you?”

Knowing he cared enough to want to ensure she was safe made her smile, and a warm kind of glow spread through her. “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing it would have been better for him if he had never met her. “To have caused you so much trouble.”

Cederic looked at her with curious suspicion in his eyes. What was she planning? “The reward is a thousand bezants, so at least that. More likely more, for keeping their mouths shut. Then there’s the chance of them becoming greedy and asking for a thousand each, it’s hard to predict,” he said, thinking out loud. “Do you have that kind of money?” He doubted she did, but realised he didn’t know enough about her to be sure.

Glancing at her when she apologised, Cederic thought about her words. “You didn’t,” he protested slowly. “You didn’t wish to be in this situation any more than I do. And, besides, I chose my side voluntarily.” He wondered if the decision would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Is you letting me go not enough?” Líadan asked, confused. She could not quite bring herself to ask why he had let her go, but this was close enough. If he was leading these men, she didn’t understand why his word that she was not the one they sought would close the matter, since Colville was not here to say otherwise.

Chewing on her lip, she considered his suggestion. Perhaps she could speak to Cyra; her friend would want to help her, and one of her guards might be able to pretend to stab her … but what then? Did she stay in Camelot, or would she have to move on and find a way to change her appearance and identity? She looked over at Cederic and asked quietly, “What would you do, if we found a way to make them believe I was dead?”

“For some of them, perhaps. But many of the men who came with me are hired mercenaries and my word means nothing to them. And as much as I hate to admit it, even some of my own men would choose money over honour, so they could go against me, if their doubts grew. It’s tricky,” he sighed, feeling defeated by the situation. 

At her question, he looked up at her. What would he do? What did she want him to do? “I would make sure you were safe, first and foremost,” he said. “And then.. I don’t know. I would try to look for a new job, I suppose.” It was clear to him now he wouldn’t be welcomed back in Durham.