Poor Unfortunate Soul: A Tale of the Sea Witch (6 page)

“The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself.”

“Can you do that?” asked the frightened mermaid.

“My dear sweet child, that’s what I
do
! It’s what I
live for
. To help unfortunate merfolk, like
yourself
. Poor souls with no one else to turn to…”

She hated performing and the way it made her feel. But she found it was the very best way to get her victims’ attention, to entrance them with a spectacle they couldn’t resist. And she did love the opportunity for a bit of cheek!

“I admit that in the past I’ve been a
nasty
. They weren’t kidding when they called me, well, a
witch
! But you’ll find that nowadays I’ve mended all my ways, repented, seen the light, and made a switch!
True? Yes!
And I fortunately know a little magic. It’s a talent that I always have possessed. And here lately, please don’t laugh, I use it on behalf of the miserable, lonely, and depressed.”

Hardly able to stomach her own words, she whispered to her minions,
“Pathetic!

“
Poor unfortunate souls!
In
pain
, in
need
! This one longing to be thinner, that one wants to get the girl—and do I help them? Yes, indeed!

“
Those poor unfortunate souls!
So sad, so true! They come flocking to my cauldron, crying,
‘Spells, Ursula, please!’
—and I help them! Yes, I do!

“Now, it’s happened once or twice someone couldn’t pay the price, and I’m afraid I had to rake ’em across the coals.

“Yes, I’ve had the odd complaint, but on the whole I’ve been a
saint
—to those
poor unfortunate souls
!

“Now, here’s the deal. I will make you a potion that will turn you into a human for three days. Got that?
Three days!
Now listen, this is important! Before the sun sets on the third day, you’ve got to get dear old princey to fall in love with you. That is, he’s got to kiss you. Not just any kiss, the Kiss of True Love! If he does kiss you before the sun sets on the third day, you’ll remain human,
permanently
—but if he doesn’t, you turn back into a mermaid and…you belong to me!”

Ariel looked stunned.

“Have we got a deal?” Ursula asked.

“If I become human, I’ll never be with my father or sisters again.”

“That’s right, but you’ll have your man. Life’s full of tough choices, isn’t it? Oh, and there is one more thing. We haven’t discussed the subject of payment. You can’t get something for nothing, you know!”

“But I don’t have—” said Ariel.

Before she could finish, Ursula interrupted. “I’m not asking much, just a token, really—a trifle! You’ll never even miss it. What I want from you is…
your voice
.”

“My
voice
?”

“You’ve got it, sweet cakes! No more talking, singing…zip.”

“But without my voice, how can I…”

“You’ll have
your looks
!
Your pretty face!
And don’t underestimate the importance of
body language
! The men up there don’t like a lot of blabber. They think a girl who gossips is a bore. Yes, on land, it’s much preferred for ladies not to say a word. And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for? Come on, they’re not all that impressed with conversation. True gentlemen avoid it when they can. But they dote and swoon and fawn on the lady who’s withdrawn. It’s she who holds her tongue who gets a man!

“
Come on, you poor unfortunate soul! Go ahead!
Make your choice!
I’m a very busy woman and I haven’t got all day! It won’t cost much…just…your…voice! You poor unfortunate soul, it’s sad but true: if you want to cross a bridge, my sweet, you’ve got to pay the toll. Take a gulp and take a breath. And go ahead and sign the scroll!”

A
riel closed her eyes and signed the scroll, flinching from Ursula’s power. The moment she finished she knew she had made a mistake.

A terrible mistake.

What have I done?

The scroll was signed and tight in Ursula’s fist and quickly conjured away with her magic. Ariel wondered if she would be able to make the prince fall in love with her, and if she did, would her father ever forgive her? Was this boy she hardly knew worth it, giving up her family, her home…her
voice
? She felt as if she were floating in a nightmare, in this hideous place, surrounded by revolting creatures and Ursula’s daunting voice as she said the magical words that would bind their contract:

“Beluga, sevruga, come winds of the Caspian Sea!

“Larynxes, glossitis, et max laryngitis, la voce to me!”

Ariel wanted to scream, “No! Stop! I’ve changed my mind!” but where would she go? Home to her father, who had destroyed everything she’d loved when he blasted away her most prized possessions from the surface world? Her father, who had forbidden her ever to see her prince, Eric? No, Ursula was right. She had no other choice.

The sea witch’s cauldron, which she had been filling with ghastly ingredients collected for this purpose, was exploding with blue light that swirled around them like a menacing wall. Ariel’s heart was pounding, thundering in her ears, and she felt a deep sorrow for betraying her family and, worse, for betraying herself. She knew her father would never forgive this. She knew he would never love her again.

U
rsula laughed.

He will hate you, as he hates me! He hates all things different from himself, little angelfish.
The swirling light transformed into large groping hands greedy for Ariel’s voice.

“Now
sing
!” Ursula commanded.

The gruesome hands grabbed at Ariel’s throat, starting to take from her the thing that most made her who she was: her voice. The sensation was terrifying. It hadn’t occurred to Ariel that losing her voice would be so painful. It was like a separate entity struggling to remain within her, and Ursula was literally tearing it from her throat, from her soul. The pain was terrible. She tried to let it go willingly, to stop struggling, but she couldn’t. Everything within her fought against the assault. And then it happened.

Her beautiful, beautiful voice—it flowed from her lips involuntarily.

“Keep singing!” Ursula screamed, and her laugh was heard throughout the many kingdoms as her cauldron cast a golden light that surrounded Ariel, ripping her merbody asunder, turning the mermaid into the thing her father hated most: a human.

A human under the sea.

It wasn’t Ursula’s concern that the girl could no longer breathe underwater.
She will need to find a way to the surface. Or not.

I
t had been several weeks since Pflanze had arrived at Morningstar Castle, and everything she’d heard on the day of her arrival was true. She and Tulip were up in the king’s highest tower, looking down on all of Tulip’s “gentlemen callers,” as Nanny liked to say. There were at least five and forty of them, all waiting for the slightest glimpse of Tulip. The guardsmen had gone out more than once to get the young men to stop fighting with each other, reminding them all that the princess would not care for brutish men who brawled like common drunkards at the local tavern.

It didn’t seem to help matters. The men kept vying for Tulip’s attention, some of them in more unique ways than others. One of the men, for example, stood out from the rest. He was wearing a sky-blue velvet frock coat with gold embellishments on his lapels and white lace ruffles at his sleeves and cravat. He played a lute decorated with lovely matching ribbons, which he used to compose songs about Tulip’s beauty.

“Her skin is like honey, her eyes like the sky. Her hair is like sunshine—”

Tulip slammed the window before she could hear the rest of the song.

“This is just too much, Nanny! Really! It’s getting rather ludicrous, don’t you think?” she asked, frustrated with the endless parade of suitors.

“It really is, my dear! What possesses them?” She quickly caught herself and added, “Not that your beauty shouldn’t command such attention, my dear!”

Tulip sighed. “I wish I knew. It’s like a mania! Something has come over these men and taken hold of their senses! I’d feel sorry for them if it weren’t so…annoying!”

“I agree, my dear! I think we should call upon Circe!”

“Call her? How do you suppose we do that?”

“I have my ways, my dear! You just leave it to old Nanny and Miss Pflanze here.”

Pflanze gave Nanny a puzzled look and let out an inquisitive meow, wondering what the old woman had in mind.

“Pflanze? What do you want with her?” Tulip asked. “You get queerer every day, Nanny!” Nanny gave Tulip a kiss on the cheek as she scooped up Pflanze and took her off to their mysterious errand.

“Come on, my dear girl. I should like your company for a while.”

I
t wasn’t customary by any means for Nanny to be down in the kitchens, searching for this thing or that. And it was clear the chef was rather put out when Nanny suggested he take a nice afternoon walk.

“You’re looking a little peaky, dear. You really should spend more time in the sun. It will do you some good to get out and about. Perhaps a walk?”

The chef grumbled, leaving the little cakes he had lined up to decorate sitting on the marble counter, not wanting to argue with Nanny.

Nanny set out a saucer of heavy cream for Pflanze while she got a few things together. Pflanze knew at once what she was up to. Nanny intended to do a scrying spell. Pflanze had seen her witches do it many times in the years she’d spent with them. She heard Nanny in the pantry muttering to herself while gathering the herbs she needed.

“Everyone thinks Nanny is a silly old woman, but she knows a trick or two.” Pflanze watched Nanny break an egg into a wooden bowl. It floated on the surface of the water like a strange eye, but that’s what it was, wasn’t it—an eye? A way to see into the world. The sisters had already tried finding Circe that way, but perhaps Nanny’s magic would find her where the sisters’ could not. Pflanze was pleased that she was right about Nanny’s being a witch.

“That’s right, precious!” Nanny said to Pflanze, who was leisurely drinking her cream. “And I know who you belong to! But never mind that now. They don’t meddle with the likes of me. Not anymore. Not after our dealings with the Dark Fairy.” Pflanze wondered for the briefest of moments if Nanny could read her thoughts, but she decided the old woman was simply talking to herself as she often did, and as she continued to do then. “It’s time to find their little sister, Circe. We need to know what’s come over these men! Clearly they’re enchanted and it’s not by your witches. It’s someone else’s magic and I don’t like it one bit!”

Pflanze didn’t blink an eye at Nanny’s mention of knowing her mistresses. Other witches didn’t frighten her, especially sweet elderly witches who’d lost most of their powers. Hopefully Nanny would remember the proper incantation to call up Circe. Pflanze knew it, of course, but had no means of conveying it to Nanny—not any that she intended to use, anyway. Not unless Nanny really
could
read her thoughts. Pflanze’s magic was unlike the witches’. It took long stretches of time to recharge. It sometimes took Pflanze years to recover after using her magic, so she had to choose very carefully the precise time in which to employ it.

Nanny gave Pflanze a funny look, like she knew what she was thinking, and it made Pflanze wonder….“Oh, yes, precious kitty, I can hear you! Old Nanny isn’t as batty as everyone thinks! Give me the spell, girl! It won’t cost you anything to think!” Pflanze wondered if Nanny had been skillfully hiding her powers all that time, or if they’d recently been coming back to her.

“Ever since you arrived, dear, they’ve been coming back to me like the divine winds! I suppose I should thank you.”

You’re welcome
, Pflanze thought. Then, because she had learned to conceal her thoughts from her witches long before, she thought to herself—quite secretly, mind you—that this was a very curious situation, one that needed some attention and investigation. Clearly Nanny had been growing more powerful by the moment, and somehow Pflanze was the cause, but even more important, Nanny remembered some dealings with the cat’s mistresses and the Dark Fairy, whom her witches seemed to fear—but she couldn’t think of that right then. She needed to focus on finding Circe, not only to make her witches happy but to see if she had any part in the spell that had overtaken all the young lads camped out on King Morningstar’s castle grounds. It did seem like Circe’s magic—that was the sort of thing she would do, try to bring about a match for Tulip—but it was getting out of hand; it wasn’t like Circe to let her magic run amuck, and that was what bothered Pflanze most. If Circe had cast the spell, she would know its outcome and she would come at once to mend things. Unless something was detaining her…

“Yes, my precious! My thoughts exactly! I’m worried Circe may be in trouble, as well!” The old woman and the cat’s conversation was interrupted by the clamor of a couple of castle guards running into the kitchen. The scene was rather ridiculous really, the men standing there wide-eyed, looking at Nanny and Pflanze, wondering what to make of an old woman chatting with a cat while clearly in the middle of some witchery. It was remarkable that one man was able to bark out their orders.