Chapter 13

A seagull cawed somewhere in the distance. Skiff continued to stare at the cloth. It was a rather warm morning, but something deep in Skiff suddenly felt icy cold.

"Where did you ... get this?" He repeated. "Exactly?"

Captain looked confused.

"Is it yours?"

The sailor shook his head, turning the cloth around to show his friend the stitching.

"That's the name of my father ... he'd always stitch his name into his sails. If you found this then ..."

An array of emotions crossed Skiff's face, all in a very brief moment of time. Shock, confusion, fear, longing and sadness all made their way across the fisherman's features before settling into an entirely different emotion altogether. There was a heavy crease between his eyebrows.

"Captain did you ... did you take this from my father's boat?"

The merman blinked a look of bewilderment and panic flashed across his own eyes.

"Not intentionally ... I stopped participating in raids when I was about 19, and even that was a long time ago"

Skiff did some quick mental maths, correlating the ages and date. His heart sunk to realise that the date of his father's death correlated within that time frame. It all seemed to piece together like an automated jigsaw. The sailing accident had happened 18 years ago, at which time the merman would have been 18 himself. Sailing accidents, oceans and merfolk seemed to slot together nicely. He'd already admitted what they did to wrecks. Skiff's fist closed around the cloth, protecting it.

"You could have saved him" Skiff murmured. "You saved Harold why not him? ..."

"I" Captain blinked "No Skiff that's not ... there was no body when we ... I mean I never even saw... I don't even remember getting that it was just to wrap the hook in-"

"Sure" The sailor shrugged, almost nonchalant if it wasn't for his shaking shoulders. He stood up, sliding the precious sail cloth into his back pocket.

"Skiff please ..." the merman began to explain some other stuff, but his friend had already walked away, furiously wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Captain called after him again, sounding desperate. Skiff broke into a run, determined to get away. He knew, deep down, that he was being ridiculous. Childish even. But it didn't make the pain any less sharp. There was a sense of deep longing in his gut. The longing for a childhood with parents, to be back in his mother's arms with his father reading him a story by the fire. It had been well over a decade ago that any of that had happened. In the back of his mind Skiff understood that he hadn't even witnessed his father's death. It might not even have been drowning that had killed him, and there was no way any merman or mermaid could have prevented that. Besides, Skiff understood that they needed to hide. One human probably didn't make any difference; it was only Skiff that felt the personal loss. He wanted to turn back, to throw himself off of the pier - and tell Captain that he was sorry and stupid and never meant to hurt him because the merman had been the only good thing in his crazy life of orphanage and Pescecorp. But his legs were already outside of the council house, his finger was already on the buzzer, and Mayor Blair had already opened the door before he concluded any of this.

A short while later, Lucy burst through the doors of the meeting room.

"Oh miracles of miracles!" She sang "Look who's back!"

Several residents looked up, puzzled, and then rose to their feet when Skiff trailed in behind her, very much alive. One of those people was Zak. His eyes scanned the sailor up and down, panicked. This was bad news. Horrendously bad news. As the throng of well wishers came forth, only Skiff noticed him slip out the back door, presumably to tell his companions.

"What do you mean, ALIVE?"

"I- I mean he lived! Somehow" Zak choked, fighting his boss's grip. His heels dangled two inches above the floor.

"Grah!" Dave slammed him into the wall for good measure, then let go. Zak slid to the floor winded, but somewhat relieved. His boss had taken that news a lot better than he'd feared, perhaps because he was still alive.

"But how?" Marco frowned. "I can't say it was an ethical practise in the first place but there's no way someone could have simply ... escaped that"

Dave spun around, his temple pulsing.

"Ethics don't apply here. He's too dangerous to keep around"

"We can't just drop him again" Zak pointed out "That would be too suspicious"

"But we can't let him spill the truth either" Dave took not one, but two cigarettes from his pocket and began to puff away furiously, pacing as he always did when he was angry. Zak and Marco watched as their boss paced and puffed and muttered, trying to figure out a way to avoid the obvious implications of Skiff being alive. After a few minutes, he slammed a fist into his palm.

"Right, since he's back they're all going to be celebrating right?"

"Right"

"So, Skiff's probably going to tell his story with a drink right?"

"Suppose. He doesn't really seem like the sort who-"

"Oh he will. Zak can slip past as a waiter and make sure they're all too drunk to believe anything. Even if they do, they'll have forgotten it by the morning"

"But-"

"And one more thing" Dave jabbed a large finger into his henchman's chest. "You WILL make sure to find out how that small stand escaped. Got it?"

"Got it" Zak gulped, and retreated back to 'help' the waiters.

Skiff kept insisting that he only wanted water, but as the night progressed he felt obliged to participate with the others. Besides, the warm feeling in his throat and stomach seemed to compensate for the otherwise empty ache elsewhere. He almost felt as though he knew why merfolk sang. Deep inside a part of him wanted to do the same. He wasn't entirely sure he could trap it in a pearl. Then he had a sudden thought. The pearl. What had been happening with it whilst he was gone? He couldn't just up and leave, and it would seem like a rather self question to those who didn't – couldn't – understand its significance. Instead he hesitantly accepted another glass of wine. The room looked a little blurry. Huh, he didn't remember the mayor having two fireplaces either. Still the questions came, and he dodged around most of them with vague replies.

There was only one reason the sailor had not yet outed Pescecorp for their illicit tactic. To do so, he would still need to explain how he'd escaped. And he hadn't yet had time to think of a solution to that without mentioning Captain (who's also removed the rest of the chain off os his ankle that morning). The sailor was still puzzling this over when Zak stopped by his chair later that night. The henchman had been careful in allowing everyone else enough to pass out, but allowing Skiff to remain delirious but conscious. The fisherman was looking sorry for himself despite his surprising survival. Two blank eyes were fixed deep into the glowing sparks of the fireplace and all that mattered was he had someone to talk to, for his altered mind was not flagging the warning signals about the voice. Someone was listening at last, which was good enough, because the sailor had a lot to tell.

Eventually, Skiff also dozed off by the fireplace, his cheeks ruddy in the light of the final fireplace embers. He was still muttering the same nonsense that he had told Zak. To his ears, it was somewhat pathetic. Grown men had no business believing in fairytales. But that was all the info he had to offer, so Zak begrudgingly took it.

"Well?" Dave whispered earnestly, once his minion returned.

"Oh that was a wasted few hours – wasted wine too!" The spy huffed crossly "To think a man in his mid twenties would talk balderdash like that"

"What did he say?" Dave's voice was rough. "Balderdash or not, that stupid kid survived somehow"

Zak snorted, tapping his foot impatiently on the polished floors. The sound echoed down the empty corridor.

"He kept saying he was saved by – and yes, this is really what he said – merman"

Dave and Marco blinked in unison. (Zak wondered if his boss technically winked when he did so). There wasn't even any laughter, for this was simply perplexing.

"Like a ... fish man?" Marco asked, one eyebrow raised high on his forehead.

"Wake him up and ask him yourself" Zak snarled. "I had to listen to too much of that pathetic drivel. He's practically in love with that fantasy hero"

"Oh shut up, both of you. He survived somehow and if he said it's a merman, it was probably a merman"

"Oh and I suppose he sings song too?" Zak snorted "Face it boss the guys a lunatic"

"Or, smarter than we judged" Dave looked up, smirking. "Marco did the Mayor keep the hat?"

"Yes why?"

Dave rubbed his hands together in glee.

"I say we've got us some bait. Ready the boat boys, we're going fishing"