The Mermaid's Mirror - L. K. Madigan [68]
The mer-folk released their hands and swam swiftly up to her, drawing close, then gliding away from her, still maintaining the circle. They flowed near, then backed away as rhythmically as the tides. In and out they moved.
"You are part of this world ... you are not of this world ... speak your name ... speak your family..."
"Names are very important. Tell them your name," prompted Melusina.
Thinking as clearly as she could, Lena formed the word: "Selena."
"Speak the names of your people," sang the mer-folk, smiling and circling. "Share the names."
Lena looked questioningly at her mother.
"Tell them the names of your parents," said her mother.
"Melusina, Brian," recited Lena.
She sensed confusion among the mer-folk, and even from her mother.
"Brian is my father," she reminded Melusina.
"Ahh ... Brian," she said, although Lena could tell she did not remember him.
With a sudden swish, an older mermaid appeared next to Melusina.
Lena started; she had seen only a glint of gold before the mermaid was beside her mother. She must be unbelievably fast, she thought.
"Selena," said the mermaid.
Lena nodded. Something about the regal bearing of the mermaid made Lena feel like she should bow or curtsy, or kiss her hand, or something. Her eyes were so light that it was hard to tell if they were blue or green, and they bored into Lena with unsettling intensity. Her hair was light as well, glowing with many shades of gold and silver. She wore her hair twisted into several tight plaits that encircled her head like a crown and trailed down her back. Lena could see pearls and shark teeth glimmering in her hair. Her double-finned tail was pewter gray.
She has a double-finned tail, too, like Mama, thought Lena. Then she peered closer at the mermaid's pointed chin, and realized she was looking at her grandmother.
"I am Amphitrite," said the mermaid. "You must learn the names of your people in this world."
"Grandmother." The word whispered through Lena's mind.
The mermaid smiled then, her expression softening. She did not embrace Lena, but reached out to take her hand. "Child of my child. You are most welcome here."
"Thank you," said Lena. It wasn't quite the same affectionate greeting her grandfather had given her, but maybe Amphitrite wasn't the hugging type.
With a grimace, Amphitrite's gaze swept down Lena's body and legs. "Is she able to swim with those legs?" she asked Melusina.
"Mother!" answered Melusina, in a tone universally employed between mothers and daughters: exasperation. "Of course she is able to swim." With a proud smile, Melusina reached down and stroked Lena's feet. "Look at her lovely feet. They have grown so, since she was a baby! They were perfect little moonbeam feet."
Amphitrite gave a frosty smile. "Yes, lovely." She addressed Lena. "You must be glad to escape the land."
Lena blinked. Glad to escape the land? Did that mean she was never going back? A tendril of worry touched her mind.
But after all, why should she go back? She had missed her mother. She wanted to stay with her.
A fleeting image of a child with blue eyes ... a memory of someone calling her name through the night ... then the hypnotic rocking of the sea drew those thoughts away from her, gently, insistently.
Lena raised a hand to her brow, as if to hold her thoughts inside her head. It's like my memories are getting washed away, she thought.
Amphitrite noticed Lena's bewilderment and turned to her daughter. "The child is exhausted, Melusina. She needs food and rest. Let us not linger over the welcome circle."
"Yes, Mother," said Melusina, appearing flustered. She turned to Lena. "Selena, after you answer the welcome, our people will approach you. Do not be nervous."
Lena looked at all the mer-folk surrounding her, still circling in and out. "What should I say?" she asked.
"You must say what is in your heart."
Lena watched the mer-folk as they flowed inward and ebbed outward,