A Little Sacrifice 1

A LITTLE SACRIFICE

I

The mermaid emerged to waist-height from the water and splashed her hands violently and hard against the surface. Geralt saw that she had gorgeous, utterly perfect breasts. Only the colour spoiled the effect; the nipples were dark green and the areolae around them were only a little lighter. Nimbly aligning herself with an approaching wave, the mermaid arched gracefully, shook her wet, willow-green hair and sang melodiously.

‘What?’ The duke leaned over the side of the cog. ‘What is she saying?’ ‘She’s declining,’ Geralt said. ‘She says she doesn’t want to.’ ‘Have you explained that I love her? That I can’t imagine life without her? That I want to wed her? Only her, no other?’ ‘Yes, I have.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing.’

‘Say it again.’

The Witcher touched his lips and produced a quavering warble. Struggling to find the words and the intonation, he began to translate the duke’s avowal.

The mermaid, lying back on the water, interrupted.

‘Don’t translate, don’t tire yourself,’ she sang. ‘I understand. When he says he loves me he always puts on such a foolish expression. Did he say anything definite?’ ‘Not really.’

‘Pity,’ the mermaid said, before she flapped in the water and dived under, flexing her tail powerfully and making the sea foam with her notched flukes, which resembled the tail of a mullet.

‘What? What did she say?’ the duke asked.

‘That it’s a shame.’

‘What’s a shame? What does she mean, “shame”?’

‘I’d say she turned you down.’

‘Nobody refuses me!’ the duke roared, denying the obvious facts.

‘My Lord,’ the skipper of the cog muttered, walking over to them. ‘The nets are ready, all we need do is cast them and she will be yours…’ ‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ Geralt said softly. ‘She’s not alone. There are more of them beneath the waves, and there may be a kraken deeper down there.’ The skipper quaked, blanched and seized his backside with both hands, in a nonsensical gesture.

‘A kra—kraken?’

‘Yes, a kraken,’ the Witcher repeated. ‘I don’t advise fooling around with nets. All she need do is scream, and all that’ll be left of this tub will be a few floating planks. They’d drown us like kittens. Besides, Agloval, you should decide whether you want to wed her or catch her in a net and keep her in a barrel.’ ‘I love her,’ Agloval said firmly. ‘I want her for my wife. But for that she must have legs and not a scaly tail. And it’s feasible, since I bought a magical elixir with a full guarantee, for two pounds of exquisite pearls. After drinking it she’ll grow legs. She’ll just suffer a little, for three days, no more. Call her, Witcher, tell her again.’ ‘I’ve already told her twice. She said absolutely no, she doesn’t consent. But she added that she knows a witch, a sea witch, who is prepared to cast a spell to turn your legs into a handsome tail. Painlessly.’ ‘She must be insane! She thinks I would have a fishy tail? Not a chance! Call her, Geralt!’ The Witcher leaned far out over the side. The water in the boat’s shadow was green and seemed as thick as jelly. He did not have to call. The mermaid suddenly shot out above the surface in a fountain of water. For a moment she literally stood on her tail, then dived down into the waves and turned on her back, revealing her attributes in all their glory. Geralt swallowed.

‘Hey!’ she sang. ‘Will this take much longer? My skin’s getting chapped from the sun! White Hair, ask him if he consents.’ ‘He does not,’ the Witcher sang back. ‘Sh’eenaz, understand, he cannot have a tail, cannot live beneath the water. You can breathe air, but he cannot breathe underwater!’ ‘I knew it!’ the mermaid screamed shrilly. ‘I knew it! Excuses, foolish, naive excuses, not a bit of sacrifice! Whoever loves makes sacrifices! I made sacrifices for him, every day I hauled myself out onto the rocks for him, I wore out the scales on my bottom, frayed my fins; I caught colds for him! And he will not sacrifice those two hideous pegs for me? Love doesn’t just mean taking, one also has to be able to give up things, to make sacrifices! Tell him that!’ ‘Sh’eenaz!’ Geralt called. ‘Don’t you understand? He cannot survive in the water!’ ‘I don’t accept stupid excuses! I… I like him too and want to have his fry, but how can I, if he doesn’t want to be a spawner? Where should I deposit my eggs, hey? In his cap?’ ‘What is she saying?’ the duke yelled. ‘Geralt! I didn’t bring you here to chat with her—’ ‘She’s digging her heels in. She’s angry.’

‘Cast those nets!’ Agloval roared. ‘I’ll keep her in a pool for a month and then she’ll—’ ‘Shove it!’ the skipper yelled back, demonstrating what he was to shove with his middle finger. ‘There might be a kraken beneath us! Ever seen a kraken, My Lord? Hop into the water, if that is your will, and catch her with your hands! I’m not getting involved. I make my living by fishing from this cog!’ ‘You make your living by my goodwill, you scoundrel! Cast your net or I’ll order you strung up!’ ‘Kiss a dog’s arse! I’m in charge on this cog!’

‘Be quiet, both of you!’ Geralt shouted irately. ‘She’s saying something, it’s a difficult dialect, I need to concentrate!’ ‘I’ve had enough!’ Sh’eenaz yelled melodiously. ‘I’m hungry! Well, White Hair, he must decide, decide at once. Tell him just one thing: I will not be made a laughing stock of any longer or associate with him if he’s going to look like a four-armed starfish. Tell him I have girlfriends who are much better at those frolics he was suggesting on the rocks! But I consider them immature games, fit for children before they shed their scales. I’m a normal, healthy mermaid—’ ‘Sh’eenaz—’

‘Don’t interrupt! I haven’t finished yet! I’m healthy, normal and ripe for spawning, and if he really desires me, he must have a tail, fins and everything a normal merman has. Otherwise I don’t want to know him!’ Geralt translated quickly, trying not to be vulgar. He was not very successful. The duke flushed and swore foully.

‘The brazen hussy!’ he yelled. ‘The frigid mackerel! Let her find herself a cod!’ ‘What did he say?’ Sh’eenaz asked curiously, swimming over.

‘That he doesn’t want a tail!’

‘Then tell him… Tell him to dry up!’

‘What did she say?’

‘She told you,’ the Witcher translated, ‘to go drown yourself.’