The Sound of a Siren's Call

21.) Homesickness and Contemplations

I felt at ease as I sat perched on the huge beams that held up the sail of the ship. I knew this world. The only thing was, my hands automatically did what I needed them to, doing little to distract me from my head. A million thoughts all surfaced at once.

First, there was the problem with Castor. Juniper said she'd handle it, but she could only handle it to a certain extent. Then it'd be up to me.

Then there were the words my mother had never said. She'd never told me. She'd never mentioned that she'd lived a life on land. She never spoke of it. Neither did my father.

Lastly, there was my father. I was both glad to be sailing away, but a part of me wanted to turn around. I needed to go back. I needed the comfort of his ship. I hadn't thought through the homesickness when I'd left. I couldn't have anticipated the dull ache in my chest as I imagined the slightly burnt cooking the plump little man who called himself our chef served with a look of pride. Everyone there signed. Most of them had hopeless hearing accents, but it was endearing.

I could almost smell the burning food on the wind that pushed my hair back. I imagined someone was signing to me when they gestured along with their speech.

I felt hollowed out, but at least my hands were busy. I wasn't itching for my knife to practice with as much anymore.

Then there was Juniper's story. I didn't know what to make of it. She'd supported it with her own experience, but she also said she didn't remember it. My father had always claimed legends were unreliable and I had to agree. Once, he'd had a fortune teller on his ship. She told him he was the subject of a great prophecy. What the prophecy or his role in it was, we never knew because he threw her out on her ear without a backwards glance.

He'd barely tolerated Nigel's patient prayers and he'd discouraged every teaching he'd tried to give me.

My mother never referenced gods or the divine one way or the other. She hadn't offered an opinion on whether there was some great destiny for us all or just an endless chaos. Like me my father, she never seemed to care.

Now, I tried to convince myself I didn't care. It was just a stupid babble. It didn't mean anything. Maybe it was based in truth, but it couldn't be the truth. There wasn't only one truth.

And even if it was true, what did it matter? I wasn't going to fall on my knees and worship the creator of sirens.

But it did matter. I felt it. It did matter and I hated that fact.

All day, it burned inside me. When I slept, it wheedled its way into my dreams.

The next morning, it found its way into the conversation. Juniper sat next to me, signing every word.

"Who'd like to lead us in prayer?" The captain asked.

The old man from the booth volunteered.

"Sea God, we come to you to protect us in your domain. We pray that you deliver us back home like you have so many times before..."

I wasn't watching to the rest of it. The rest of the nonexistent gods didn't matter to me. Only one.

"What do you know about him?" I asked when they were done, using Nigel's old sign.

Juniper asked for me, and all attention was on us. The captain smiled and tossed a little book at me, I caught it and looked down at it.

The Enchiridion of the Divinity. I'd only ever seen one copy of these in my life, and I hadn't been so much as allowed to touch it before it went straight into the waves.

It was a holy text. I didn't feel some magical validation by holding it. I opened the page and squinted at the tiny text.

I skimmed until I saw what I wanted to. Peldos. The god of the sea.

The book gave a description of his linage, which I skipped. A description of his family. I paid careful attention to the daughter. She barely did anything until it got to the story Juniper described. It had a bit more detail. She'd been kidnapped and almost died trying to escape. Then she'd become a siren, creating a new race. The book very obviously had a poor opinion of sirens.

I tried to hand it back to the captain, but he crossed his arms. "Keep it." Juniper translated. "Read it well."

I didn't want to keep it or read it, but I took it. I'd learned what I wanted to. The legend was just an explanation for an event. As far as I was concerned, there were no gods, for better or worse.

I was glad when we were back in the fresh air, away from the talk of gods and prayer. I tried to push all the thoughts from the day before out of my head, but eventually I kept returning to the thought of home.

I was lost in a daydream when it happened. Castor tapped my shoulder. He had a plate of food and moved to sit next to me.

"Arriana, I want to talk to you."

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"You learned more signs." I signed quickly.

"Slower."

I repeated the same thing slower.

"She teach me," he signed.

I nodded. Of course Juniper had taught him. I didn't say anything about his tenses.

"I like you," he signed, signing each word. Even the "I." I wanted to laugh and correct him, but I didn't.

"I know."

"And you like me back?"

I shook my head. "No. Sorry."

The lie came so easily. Sorry.

He nodded and we ate without another word. I stood up as soon as I was done and put as much distance between us as possible. He did the same.

I tried to imagine I was on the Red Revenge. But the ship was too big. I couldn't see the similarities enough to trick myself into comfort.

Juniper met my eyes.

"He's all yours," I signed before she turned away.

I threw myself into whatever work anyone would offer me. I methodically adjusted ropes. I scurried around on beams. I tugged on sails, pushed on the canvas, or did anything else I could think of to do. I tried to focus on the work this time. I worked through dinner. I worked until men dragged me back to my hammock.

I didn't sleep that night. I tried to count backwards. I tossed and turned. Sleep always found me, but it was hardly a comfort.

My days settled into a routine. Work as hard as possible, toss and turn, uneasily sleep, get back up and work again.

I never touched the book the captain had given me again. I tired to think as little of sirens as possible.

The work was enough to keep me occupied. Castor avoided me just as much as I avoided him. I rarely ever talked to Juniper. I was alone, but I genuinely didn't care.

I only came out of my daze when Juniper signed, "Land."