The Girl in the Red Cloak, Part 3: The Silver Shore
In which the drowning sailor hears a parable about the consequences of oath breaking before he decides whether to swear an oath to unknown forces.
The sea was black and still around the sailor. From time to time, he tried to swim. He could not tell whether he was swimming faster than sinking, so he quit. Sea creatures slithered through the water. He could feel the ripples of their passing in the water, but he could not see them. The voice was keeping them at bay for now.
One last story. After this, if you swear an oath to me, I will see you safely on shore. I even swear that you will see your beloved again eventually. If you choose not to swear, good luck.
I told the story of the woman in the red cloak to the people of The Silver Shore—yes, I know it's a place of sprites of boogeymen to your people, but it is a real place. Many years later, I returned, and this was the version of the story I heard.
Perhaps you will see its relevance to your current situation.
Once upon a time, two sisters entered a mirror and discovered a large and lofty palace. The palace was long deserted and stripped to the stone, except for one beautiful red cloak they found under a torn, moldy sack in a remote closet. The cloak was untouched by the ravages of time and beautifully embroidered.
The two sisters argued over the cloak amid the wildflowers of the overgrown castle gardens until a wolf loped into the garden. Immediately, the wolf knew this was a special, oath-bound cloak that would never fade or fray and could only be taken by oath.
The wolf sat down, regarded the sisters, and said, “I hear you are bickering over this cloak. Perhaps I can settle the argument.”
Now, the two girls had been warned by their mothers, grandmothers, and ancestors never to swear an oath, and especially never to swear an oath on the other side of the mirror, because once you do, it's very hard to stop. The older sister knew the danger, but she was also faced with a wolf, so she made a decision.
“Swear to us that you won’t hurt us,” said the older sister.
“I will swear not to touch a hair on your heads if you will swear to abide by my judgment in the cloak matter.”
Safety from the wolf seemed a bargain compared to an argument over clothing, so the older sister swore.
“Now, whoever has gathered the most oaths by sunset will own the cloak.”
By now, the younger sister was frightened and believed the wisdom of her mothers, grandmothers, and ancestors. She had not made an oath and didn’t intend to swear one.
“Please, good wolf,” said the younger girl. “I don’t care for the cloak anymore. Just help us find a mirror to go home, for there isn’t a mirror in the castle.”
“An oath has been sworn, and your sister must abide by my judgment,” replied the wolf. “I shall show you a mirror after your oath has been fulfilled. Leave the cloak, and I will meet you here at sunset.” With that, the wolf padded off and disappeared among thickets of flowers and thorns.
The two worried sisters quickly conferred.
“I’m scared,” said the younger sister. “I just want to go home. Let us make no oaths. We will wait by the cloak until sunset. The wolf will tell us where to find a mirror, and we will go home.”
“But the wolf told us that whoever has gathered the most oaths by sunset will own the cloak,” the older sister reasoned. “If neither of us has gathered an oath by sunset, neither will own the cloak, and my oath will go unfulfilled. Then the wolf might not tell us how to get home.”
“Fine,” said the younger sister. “You go gather oaths, but I will wait by the cloak.”
“Fine,” said the older sister. “I will gather oaths, win the cloak, and get us home.”
With that, the older sister stomped off into the garden. The gardens of the Mirror Side, even overgrown, are very beautiful. Purple, blue, and red flowering vines climbed the castle walls and fallen outbuildings. Roses grew wild, large, and fragrant everywhere. A nightingale sang a beautiful tune, so the older sister stopped to listen.
A hare nearby also paused to listen to the music, and the older sister noticed its long, handsome ears.
“Excuse me, good hare, would you swear to me a boon of hearing?” she politely addressed the hare. “I would very much like to hear the beautiful bird song as well as you.”
“Perhaps, good woman,” the hare replied. “I fear daily for my baby leverets. A greedy magpie lives in the tree above my warren. I will swear to give you my gift of hearing if you will swear to me that you will get rid of the magpie.”
The older sister thought for a moment. The oath seemed simple enough. She would get the magnificent hearing of the hare in exchange for helping save the hare’s children, which she would have been happy to do anyway.
“I swear it,” the older sister said. She flounced over to a gorgeous tree with flaky, silvery bark laden with beautiful pink flowers. A striking white and black magpie perched on a low branch, just over a discrete hole in the ground.
“Excuse me, good magpie,” said the older sister. “Could I persuade you to perch and hunt somewhere else?”
“What have you got to give me?” croaked the magpie with a glint in his eye.
“Nothing much, I’m afraid,” said the older sister. “But perhaps I can do something for you.”
“There is a ruby that the owner of this castle lost in the garden long, long ago,” said the magpie. “Find me that ruby, and I will leave the garden.”
“I would love to find the ruby, but you have such keen eyes,” the girl said. “It would help if I was as good at seeking treasure as you.”
“I will swear to give you my gift of sight now so that you can find the ruby, and I swear to leave the garden after you give me the ruby—if you swear to find it and give it to me.”
“I swear it,” the older sister said. And immediately, she could see all around herself, every glint of dew or shimmer of a dragonfly’s wing. She felt quite pleased with herself, for she would collect two oaths for only swearing one. “This swearing with oaths and dealing with creatures on the other side of the mirror is not so hard,” she thought.
Now, the older sister was clever. She knew the magpie would have already flown over the garden to look for the ruby. The older girl began to search in places hidden from a birdseye view and where a person with a ruby might pause. As the sun began to sink towards the horizon, covering the garden in pink and orange, she found a weed-choked bench, turned it over, and found the ruby beneath. When she bent to pick it up, she heard a familiar voice.
“That ruby belongs to me,” said the wolf with a hungry grin.
“My, what big teeth you have,” the sister shuddered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It is precious to me,” said the wolf. “But there is something still more precious I would trade for it. Give me your human form, and take me through the mirror, for I cannot go myself.”
“No!” shouted the older sister in horror. She dropped the ruby and ran. Instead of pursuing her, the wolf carefully buried his ruby.
The older sister ran past the magpie, who squawked. “You didn’t give me the ruby!”
“I can’t!” cried the older sister. “It belongs to the wolf.”
“You could have, but you chose not to!” screeched the magpie. The dark bird flew down, quick as a wink, and plucked out her eyes. Then, spying a leveret startled by the commotion, it swooped down and ate for dessert.
As best she could tell, the blind older sister stumbled back toward the cloak and her little sister. She could hear the hare's panicked dash, summoned by the baby leveret's cries.
“You let the magpie eat my baby!” cried the hare. “You broke your oath, and I shall take your hearing.”
The world was dark and silent, and the older sister could not return to the cloak. Instead, she wandered into the forest as the sun fell below the tree tops and hills.
The younger sister, increasingly worried, stood waiting by the cloak when the wolf appeared.
“Where is your sister?” asked the wolf.
“I do not know,” said the younger sister. “Please show us a mirror and let us go home.”
“Hmmf,” said the wolf. “Well, you have collected no oaths, whereas I have collected many over the years, so the cloak is mine.” The wolf put on the cloak with more delicacy than the little girl thought such a beast could muster. “But this would fit much better if I were a human. How about you swear to give me your human form and take me home through the mirror?”
“No!” cried the little girl, horrified. “You promised to show us the mirror.”
“Fine,” the wolf growled. It slunk towards the little girl.
“You also promised not to touch us,” said the girl.
“No,” replied the wolf. “I promised not to touch a hair on your head.”
And with that, the wolf gobbled the little girl up from foot to neck. Her head rolled under a bush and came to rest facing a pond as clear and still as glass.
The sailor hung his head and went limp. He was at the end of his time. The waves around him were dark as ink, and he could feel the circling currents of hungry sea beasts not far off.
What? No, I don’t promise the oath will end well for you. I promise you will get to shore safely, which is more than you currently have. Were you even listening? I find it demoralizing to spend the vast majority of a very long life in silence, broken only by poor conversational partners.
In any case, time is up. Of course, there are risks with this oath. But the worst risk is breaking your oath, as the older sister broke hers. You will be tempted to break the oath after you get to shore. Do not. I promise you will regret it. All you have to do is make and keep your promises, unlike the foolish little girls in the story.
No more waiting. Swear now or brave the waters alone.
I will swear, thought the sailor. The low, raspy voice of the storyteller gave him the precise words, and the sailor swore them in his mind.
Immediately, sunlight flooded the water, and the sailer found he was only thirty feet from the water's shimmering surface. He swam through the water with a new, instinctual grace. He had nothing but tiny, darting fish for company. The storm was nowhere on the horizon when his face broke from the seawater into the sunny air. He bobbed in the clear water for a minute, turning, before he spotted the mast of a large trading ship headed East to shore.