The Girl in the Red Cloak, Part 1: The Deathless Faire
In which a drowning sailor gets a temporary reprieve and an other-worldly story.
The mast cracked and fell into the water, broaching the ship broadside to the swell of storm-fed waves. The boat rolled sideways into the next wave. All the men not broken against the deck were swept into the swirling flood, days from shore.
The sailor swam poorly, from instinct, but his last thoughts were of a sun-polished woman with gold-streaked hair, smelling of honey and lemons. He was ready to swallow seawater. Then he heard the low, warm, and raspy voice.
In every wave, the ocean sings,
Of love and loss, of joy and sting.
The poem nearly startled the sailor out of his last breath.
Not a fan of poetry? Too on the nose? We only appreciate our grand adventures in hindsight. If you want the chance to appreciate this one, you will have to trust me. Say this with your last breath, and I swear you'll live to hear me out:
Blood and bone, soul and spirit, I request a boon from the essence of water.
Listen, do you hear the water respond? Do you hear the oath? Swear it, and you will never drown.
The sailor had no more breath to swear an oath to the sea but mouthed the words as the water rushed into his lungs. The burning in his chest eased, and even the mad rush of the waves calmed around him. He sank gently toward the darkness.
Now, you won't drown on me. Don't worry, I'll keep the sharks and sea serpents from you. At least long enough for you to make a choice. You've made one oath that will keep you alive, for now. Swear a second one to me, and I promise you will arrive at shore safely.
The sailor struggled to swim up, but with water-laden lungs, it was hard to find the way up was hard to find. He troubled the water with vain clawing. Finding no purchase, the sailor went limp. A leaden current carried him down, down into the dark.
Not eager to swear two oaths in one day? Not even to return to your beloved, so desperately awaiting your ship at the docks? I'll be gracious. Besides, I rarely relish the chance to have a conversation, one-sided as it is. You would understand if your leading conversational partner for a thousand years was a fungus.
I will tell you three stories. When I finish the third story, you will choose whether to swear my oath or whether you will swim to shore on your own. You will never drown, but many hungry creatures swim between you and the shore. Creatures that I can keep at bay.
Now, these are special stories. Once long ago, so long ago you wouldn't recognize your forefathers, I told a story in three worlds. Then I left for a long time. When I returned, generations had passed. Each world had changed the story and made it their own. What surprised me were the similarities in the changes. It made me wonder whether the peoples of the realms shared an ancestor or whether they understood on some level what was about to befall them.
This is the story of the girl in the red cloak, according to the people of the Deathless Faire. You may have heard of that realm as the Market of the Damned. It's a kind of underworld in your myths and fairy tales. But it is a real place, I assure you.
A young girl appeared on the steps of a castle made of disparate stones. The woman who lived in the castle invited the young girl in and soon treated the girl as her own daughter. She even gave the girl a red cloak, beautifully embroidered from a single cloth, with no patches on it.
"This cloak will protect and watch over you and ensure you don't disappear. Never take it off."
The woman gave the girl anything she could want, sending servants to bring back the freshest food when the girl was hungry. The woman sent servants to bring back toys and dresses found by the scavengers. When the toys or dresses disappeared, the woman sent servants to bring more. When the servants disappeared, the woman herself went to get new servants.
The girl wanted for nothing that could be bought in the Deathless Faire, but soon she came to pine for something that was not for sale. The girl remembered swimming in the ocean from a time before the market. She would pester the woman daily, "I want to swim in the ocean." There has never been an ocean in the Deathless Faire, and the young girl's request vexed the woman to no end.
"These memories are wicked," said the woman. "They only serve to torture you. Forget about the ocean."
But the young girl could not forget the ocean, and she wearied the woman until the woman could not stand it anymore.
"There is a man in the market who can craft dreams," the woman said. "I will send for a waymaker. He will take you to the dream crafter, where you can dream of swimming in the ocean."
The girl in the red cloak cheered, but the woman continued with a warning. "Don't stop or get distracted by the market. Go only to the dream crafter and come straight home."
The little girl promised and followed the waymaker into the market. She had never left the castle before. She was entranced by the patchwork tents and their strange wares and the green and purple spirit lights. She was so entranced that she didn't notice that the shuffling crowds were staring at her red cloak with fear and greed wherever she went.
One merchant noticed the girl's wandering eye. The merchant played his hand over a lovely set of windchimes, all of a single set, not a chime out of tune. The girl stopped in wonder. She hadn't heard anything so beautiful since she appeared in the market. Then she remembered her guardian's warning.
"I must go!" said the girl.
"But, little girl, have you ever seen a mirror so clear and uncracked?" The merchant pulled out a silver hand mirror from behind his counter. The little girl was struck by her visage, which she had not seen since appearing in the market.
"What a beautiful mirror! But my waymaker hasn't gone too far, and surely I can catch up to him."
"Your waymaker will come find you in just a minute," the merchant said. "Tell me, what do you see?"
"I see a girl in a red cloak."
"Ahh, but would you allow a silly old man a chance to ask a silly question?" The merchant smiled. "What would you be if you were not a girl? Answer, and I will make you a surprise!"
The little girl thought. "If I were not a girl, I would be… a music box."
"I can hear it now. What beautiful music you make, like the song of the sea!" the man exclaimed. "Come around, close your eyes, and picture it." The man led the girl around the corner.
"The outside of the box would be turquoise and mother of pearl," the little girl continued chattering. "With a mirror in the lid!"
"What a shiny mirror! I can almost see myself. One moment, your surprise is almost ready," the man said, He collapsed a much-patched awning in front of the counter to block them from sight. Then he closed his eyes, and with a flash of light, the little girl melted away into the music box. Just as she described, it was turquoise and mother of pearl, and the little chimes of the music box sang like a siren.
"Surprise!" muttered the merchant as he appraised the music box sitting on the fallen red cloak. "Two prizes for the price of one. Quite a bargain!"
When the merchant went to close the music box. a row of small curved spikes lining the edge of the box snapped shut and bit into his fingers.
"My, what nasty little teeth you have!"
The merchant carefully wrapped his finger in a rag, then wrapped the music box in the girl's red cloak. Within minutes, the merchant had packed up all his curiosities and disappeared into the market.
When the waymaker discovered the girl was missing, he was furious. He retraced the girl's steps to the merchant's tent and split the counter in two with an ancient axe. The waymaker found nothing in the ruins of the tent but patched rags and splintery wood. He sold the rags and wood and hid from the woman for the rest of his days.
The sailor remained still and sank like a stone throughout the story. The voice in his head seemed happy enough to react to his thoughts, so he didn't bother to respond.
What, you were expecting the waymaker to save the music box—I mean, girl? No, it's not supposed to make you feel better. It's just a story.
If you need a moral, consider this. The girl made many mistakes, but her first mistake was clinging to memories of a life that had already disappeared. As you consider my offer, you would do well to recognize that your life has already changed forever. Whether you take my deal or swim to shore alone, your life will not be the same.
For example, that beloved of yours? She swore an oath to grant you this opportunity. Her oath will take her away for a long while. If you swear my oath and keep it, I can promise that your paths will cross again.
I won't even make you swear a third oath for it. Consider it a bargain: two prizes for the price of one.
