The Storyteller's Daughter (15 page)

‘“I will not fail,’ the water bearer’s daughter vowed.  ‘But worse than failing is not to try at all. For then there can be no hope of success.’

“At these words, the court lady gestured to the two servants who had accompanied her. “Then take these, and may success follow.’ The servants placed a basket and a roll of parchment at the water bearer’s daughter’s feet. Then they bowed low, and all three departed.

“Unrolling the parchment, the water bearer’s daughter discovered a map like a jigsaw puzzle, showing how her own country fit into those around it until, at last, the land ended at a great ocean. The distance between where she would begin, and where she must end was so great, it made her bones ache just to study it. But taking careful note of the direction in which she needed to travel, she rolled the map up again and tucked it into her knapsack, saying to herself,
There is no sense on dwelling on what cannot be altered.

“Opening the basket, she discovered a pair of shoes made of iron. They seemed a strange choice for such a long journey, but she supposed they had one virtue: They would not wear out. So she sat down upon the ground, removed her sandals, and slipped her feet into the iron shoes. They were so heavy, she could barely lift her feet to walk. But she said to herself,
I am not afraid to work hard. Has not
my father done so all his life? Besides, every step I take will bring me closer to the moment he is free once more.

“And so, shouldering her knapsack, the water bearer’s daughter set off.”

“How many days and nights, how the days and nights stretched out to weeks and the weeks to months and maybe even years, is not recorded in the cloth,” Shahrazad’s voice continued softly. “But this much I can tell you:

“The water bearer’s daughter had walked so long, her hair had turned as white as a noonday sky. So far the heels and toes of her iron shoes were worn clean through so that the sand ran in one end and out the other, before she stood at last upon the shore of a vast and swirling blue-green ocean.

“But, though her heart rejoiced to reach her destination at last, it quailed also. For now that she was here, the water bearer’s daughter realized several bitter things all at once: She did not know what form the treasure she was looking for might take, and there was no one she might ask, for she was quite alone. And she had remembered suddenly that she could not swim. How then could she hope to find a treasure at the bottom of the ocean?

“The bitterness of these things struck her with such force, her legs gave way and she fell to her knees, soaking her skirts with ocean foam. And there the water bearer’s daughter might finally have given up hope when, through eyes grown dim with tears as salty as the great ocean itself, she beheld a sail dancing upon the horizon. The longer she watched, the larger it became, until she could clearly perceive a small boat with a single occupant.

“I
can at least ask this fisherman,
she thought. So she got to her feet and waited patiently upon the shore. But the longer she waited, the more concerned the water bearer’s daughter became. For as she watched and waited, the wind came up and the sky grew crowded with clouds as fierce and dark as any she had seen. Without warning, a great needle of light shot down from the sky. It struck so near the boat, the water bearer’s daughter swore she smelled scorched wood. With a shout, the fisherman threw himself overboard.

“The water bearer’s daughter never even hesitated. Later, it seemed to her she simply moved, with no conscious thought at all. In spite of the fact that she could not swim a stroke, she kicked off what remained of her iron shoes and waded out into the thrashing water.

“It seethed about her, agitated as the brew of a witch’s cauldron. After no more than a few struggling steps, the water bearer’s daughter felt her feet slip, then leave the bottom. Still, she never faltered, her determination to save the fisherman as great as her need to save her father.

“One wave struck her. Then another. And another. Until the water bearers daughter’s eyes stung with salt, her mouth choked with seawater. But still, she pushed against the waves with all her might, reaching out through the water. On the fourth wave, she felt something brush against her outstretched hands. Something with fingers that reached to meet hers and clung having found them. Sobbing now, the water bearer’s daughter held on with one hand, and with the other, reached back toward the shore.

“Again and again she reached. Each time, the strength of her determination brought the land a little closer. Until at last she felt the earth beneath her feet. A few more steps brought her out of the water. And with her, the fisherman, for it was his hand she held fast in her own. Together, they collapsed to the sand, and as they did so, the storm ended as abruptly as it had begun, and the sun shone down upon them, bright and strong.

‘“Thank you,’ the fisherman said as soon as he was able.  ‘If not for your courage, my life would have been lost.’

‘“Oh, surely not,’ the water bearers daughter answered.  ‘For you are …’

“But here, a strange thing happened. Without warning, a great heaviness seized the water bearer’s daughter in all her limbs, as if every step of her long journey had suddenly come to inhabit her body all at the same moment. Her vision darkened until she could not see the fisherman clearly, though he lay beside her. She blinked her eyes once, twice. The third time, her lids stayed closed, and she remembered nothing more.

“She awoke to a warm darkness. She pulled in a breath and found the air scented with smoke from a driftwood fire. She stirred and realized she was covered in a scratchy blanket from feet to chin.

“So you’re awake at last,’ the voice of the fisherman said.  ‘That is good, for I feared I might have lost you.’

‘“I am not lost,’ the water bearer’s daughter replied. And with this, she sat up and looked around her.

“She was in a small cottage made of wood, its roof thatched with the reeds that grew out of the great dunes bordering the ocean. There was a hole in the roof, and through it drifted the driftwood smoke. Though another might have considered it small and poor, the water bearer’s daughter could see that the cottage had been well kept, much like the home she shared with her father. And so she felt not scornful or afraid to awaken in a place she did not know, but comfortable and at home.

“Over a pot above the fire, the fisherman stirred something that made the water bearer’s daughter’s mouth water.

‘“What are you making?’ she inquired.

“‘Seaweed soup,’ the fisherman answered. ‘It will help to make you strong once more.’ So saying, he filled a bowl. As he leaned over the fire, its light played over his features, and the water bearer’s daughter felt her breath catch as she beheld him clearly for the very first time.

“Never had she seen a man so ugly.

“His face was lined as if creased by the wind, pitted as if scarred by the salt in the seawater. With his gaze downcast, the water bearer’s daughter could not see the color of his eyes. His hands were as wide across as one of her legs. But they cradled her bowl of soup as gently as if it were a bird’s nest filled with hatchlings.

“There is kindness in him,
she thought.

“And so, though her heart beat a little faster at his approach, she took the bowl of soup from him without spilling a drop, for her hands did not tremble. And she said to him, ‘I thank you for your kindness.’

“At her words, the fisherman started.  ‘You are the first who has ever seen it,’ he said, and he smiled. When he did this, the water bearer’s daughter discovered that it was possible to forget his great ugliness, for his kindness was the only thing she saw.

‘“Eat your soup,’ he said.  ‘Then, if you are not too weary, tell me how you have come to be in this place, for I think that you are far from home.’

‘“I am, indeed,’ the water bearer’s daughter said, though this cottage reminds me of it.’

“At this, though he did not speak, the fisherman smiled once more. The water bearer’s daughter ate her soup, then told him of all that had lately befallen her.

‘“I have heard of this treasure you seek,’ the fisherman said when her tale was done. ‘It may be that I can even show you where it lies. But seeking is not the same as finding. Many have come before you, and all have failed.’

“‘I will not fail,’ the water bearer’s daughter answered firmly. ‘I will succeed, for I must save my father.’

‘“In the morning, we shall see,’ the fisherman said. ‘Sleep, now.’ So saying, he took her empty bowl from her, then tucked her in once more. The water bearer’s daughter was asleep by the time the blanket reached her chin.

“In the middle of the night, she awoke to find the fire had died down low. The fisherman sat beside it, weaving a great net, his eyes glowing bright as the coals.

“In the morning, her strength restored, the water bearer’s daughter followed the fisherman down to the water. There they climbed into his boat, and the fisherman plied the oars. Today the sea was as smooth as honey. When they reached a spot in the ocean that looked the same as any other to the water bearer’s daughter, the fisherman lifted the oars from the water.

‘“The treasure that you seek is down below us. To find it, you must dive to the bottom.’

“Though she had never done such a thing before, the water bearers daughter rose.  ‘Then that is what I will do,’ she vowed.

‘“Keep your head down,’ the fisherman advised. ‘Reach with your arms for the bottom.’

‘“I will,’ the water bearer’s daughter said, and with no more ado, she dove over the side.

“Down, down, down she went, through water so smooth it felt like silk, always keeping her head aimed downward and reaching with her arms for the bottom. Her heartbeats began to pound in her ears. Then at last, she saw what she was searching for. The sand at the bottom of the ocean was white and pure as milk, but whiter still were the bones resting on top of it.

“These are the ones who came before me and failed,
the water bearer’s daughter thought. Scattered among the bones was a treasure such as she had never dreamed of: Jewels of every size and shape. Gold coins too numerous to count. Surely something here would ransom her father. The question was, what?

“Just when the water bearer’s daughter thought her breath would last no longer, she caught a dazzle from the corner of her eye. A ruby, big as her fist, nestled in the right eye socket of a half-buried skull. She snatched it up, then shot toward the surface, breaking through the water at the last possible moment, desperately pulling breath into her lungs. She felt the fisherman reach down and lift her up into the boat.

“‘Well?’ he said after giving her a chance to catch her breath.  ‘What have you found?”

“The water bearers daughter opened her hand to reveal the ruby. To her horror and dismay, the fisherman snatched it from her and heaved it back into the ocean.

“‘You will not save your father with that,’ he said. You must try again tomorrow.’

“With that, he spoke not another word, but rowed them back to shore. That night, much was as it had been the night before. The water beater’s daughter awakened just once, in the dead of night. She saw the fisherman sitting by the fire, weaving a great net by the fireside, his eyes glowing bright as the coals.

“Now began a series of days when the exact same thing happened. The fisherman fished while the water bearer’s daughter dove. But each time she retrieved what she hoped was the treasure she sought, the fisherman would declare it useless and throw it back into the sea once more.

“As the days passed, the water bearer’s daughter grew more and more desperate. The rich jewels adorning the bottom of the ocean began to lose their shine. Though they might be valuable, they were not precious. And within the water bearer’s daughter’s heart was a growing certainty that the only thing that could ransom her father was a treasure beyond price. But she did not yet see what it was.

“She began staying beneath the waves longer and longer, pushing herself to the limits of her breath before she made her choice. Until finally the day came when she brought up nothing at all. For she had left her choice too late. To choose would be to drown. On that day, after he had lifted her into the boat, the fisherman said nothing at all. But that night, when the water bearer’s daughter awoke in the dead of night, the fisherman said, ‘Have you ever wondered how all those bones came to be at the bottom of the ocean?_

“‘Never,’ answered the water bearer’s daughter. ‘For surely it is obvious. They are the bones of those who tried before me.’

‘“Tried and failed,’ the fisherman reminded her. ‘Do you know why?’

“Before today, the water bearer’s daughter might not have had an answer. But now she thought she understood, and so she replied, ‘The day came when they could not choose, and so they drowned.’

‘“That is so,’ the fisherman said with a nod.  ‘But that is not all. They did not know how to look, trusting only the eyes of the mind. But the treasure you seek will never be found that way.’

‘“How, then?_ the water bearer’s daughter asked.

‘“With the eyes of the heart,’ the fisherman replied. ‘They alone will show you the treasure you seek. If you fail in this, you will suffer the same fate as all the others.’

‘“I will not fail,’ the water bearer’s daughter said, just as she had that first morning.

‘“We shall see,’ the fisherman replied. ‘Sleep now. One way or the other, tomorrow will be your last dive.’

“The following morning found the fisherman and the water bearer’s daughter in the fisherman’s small boat once more. The fisherman fished. The water bearer’s daughter dove over the side. But even though she did so again and again, she could find nothing she thought might ransom her father, for now all seemed changed. Nothing looked as it had before.