"Dave Smeds - Foam" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smeds Dave)

One of his fins moved, spawning a surge of water that sent Coral back, into the central portion of the
grotto. The quivering of his great eyelids betrayed that he would rather have cupped her form beneath
him, and guarded her forever.

“Go, my daughter. Show the world your beauty. Be all that you can.”

The currents lifted her up, gently buoying her through the long passageway to the open ocean. Her
father's grief followed her, as he wept for older children who had never returned to his side.

***

Twilight silvered the ocean as Coral emerged from the depths. Vestiges of the day blessed the clouds
with hues of rose and gold, and up in the pale pink sky the evening star held court. A large three-masted
ship idled in the calm sea, sails hoisted as offerings to a fickle tradewind. Sailors hung like monkeys from
the rigging and from the yards. They sang, made music, and lit hundreds of lanterns that, with their
different colors, looked as if the flags of all nations had been borrowed for display.

Coral floated just beyond the range of the lantern light, drawn by the jubilation frothing in the hearts of the
crew. They were near the end of a long voyage; the coast of their country had come in sight as the sun
had set. Holds full of trade goods, they anticipated the wealth and welcome awaiting them in the morning.

All this the mermaid gleaned from their minds, but the facts meant little to her compared to the feelings
associated with them. Such fire, such a cacophony of hope, schemes, and relief.

Her father had often told her of humanity, of how the Earth Mother had sent him the ape, and how he
had stripped the creature's hair from its skin and aligned its pelvis with its spine until, streamlined, it could
swim and dive with ease. He had heightened its sense of hearing, prompting its first use of vocal language.
He taught it to use tools, with which it battered open shellfish to eat.

But the Earth Mother, seeing what he had fashioned, called her gift back. The new species took its
language, tools, and erect posture back to the land, forsaking the Sea King.

At last, Coral understood why her father spoke of man with such wistfulness, and why he had shaped her
upper body like them. Never had she encountered so many consciousnesses, gathered so closely
together, burbling with such keenly felt desires. Their passions tugged her like spawning beds drew the
salmon.

One human stood out. Dark-haired and tall, he seemed quite young, and yet every other man on the ship
deferred to him. Was he a prince? Yes. A prince of merchants. Within his awareness flashed images of
lively negotiations, careful intimidation, and a paternal concern for his crew. She saw why they looked to
him with loyalty and respect.

Yet overriding his satisfaction at a job well done, he brimmed with another urge. He gazed toward the
night-shrouded coast. A woman waited for him there. Body aching, he dreamed of their reunion.

Coral surged up, until she rose waist high in a wreath of foam. Eyes closed, she drank in the prince's
hunger. Her skin, exposed to the air, rose with fine prickles.

Her eyes came open. She had wandered into the lantern light. At the gunwale, the prince stared. He lifted