The Parliament of Mermaids
From Legends of EarthDawn, Vol. I I think
In the early days, when the t'skrang first swam the Serpent River, we shared the Great Water with a race of strange creatures called mermaids. The mermaids caused us many troubles, but not because mermaids are evil or terrible, like Horrors or Theran slavers.
It is true the elves feared them, for sometimes they took an elf child and made it a mermaid. But we had no fear of the mermaids, because they were like us. They talked
and sang and told stories, they built houses to live in, they loved their children and wanted peace with their neighbors.
Just because you mean well, though, doesn't make you a good neighbor-and the mermaids were not.
They thought they were more beautiful to behold than a fine sunrise, that their jokes were cleverer than any others, that their voices were a greater blessing to hear than the sound of a good sailing wind.
Because they believed that they could do no wrong, they did not understand why we did not love them. They made friends with the fish we ate, warning the fish away from our boats so that we could catch no dinner. They frolicked and played in the river without paying any attention to where our boats were going, and often tipped over our vessels--sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose. (Now, these things happened long before Upandal helped us discover the secret of the fire engine, so the boats we used in those days were flimsy and easy to tip over compared to the ones your mothers and fathers use today.) And so when the mermaids tipped over our boats, we would lose our catches.
Also, because the mermaids were made of elemental water, they could slip under the doors of our houses and make themselves at home any time they wanted to. And when their pranks and doings made us angry, the mermaids would not apologize. Instead, they laughed at us, because they thought the wrongs they did us were funny.
One day, we t'skrang had simply had enough. Determined to make the mermaids stop their foolishness and leave us alone, wise Rossaruss and her daring mate, T'Chakru, went to the Parliament of the mermaids to plead our case. The Parliament was to the mermaids what our aropagoi are to us, though their Parliament was loud and disorderly compared to the way we t'skrang run our affairs.
The Parliament met in a huge palace underwater, a building of great grandeur but little use.
Its halls twisted and turned and led to nothing. Its rooms were of strange shapes that confused the eye. Its staircases led nowhere, and one could not see out of many of its windows. And the only room in the whole grand, foolish place that anyone ever used for anything was the Great Argument Hall, where the mermaids gathered to quarrel with each other and play practical jokes on whoever happened to be present.
Rossaruss and T'Chakru swam to the Parliament and made their way to the Great Argument Hall, where Rossaruss spoke to the assembled mermaids. But the proud mermaids rebuffed her. They claimed that the Great River was theirs and said we should be honored to have them bursting into our homes and tipping over our boats. They then began to sing and play their lyres for Rossaruss, thinking that their performance would be sufficient payment to make up for their wrongs.
Now Rossaruss was very clever, and she knew that the mermaids would say these foolish things. As the mermaids played and sang, Rossaruss whispered to T'Chakru to study certain fish that attended the mermaids' Parliament. T'Chakru saw the fish and memorized their appearancethere was a fat bass with a pattern like a wheel on its left side, two carp with glowing green eyes, three pike with long fins like arms, and an eel as long as seven riverboats.
Bold, brave T'Chakru spent many a year hunting for these fish, until he had caught each and every one of them. Then he imprisoned them in underwater cages, hiding them well from all eyes. Soon afterward, the haughty mermaids called Rossaruss to their Parliament and demanded the return of their attendants. The bass was their Bailiff, they said. The two carp kept all their Thoughts and Memories. The three Pike were their chief Child-Stealers, and the eel was their representative to the Passions. Rossaruss refused to give the fish back, and the mermaids became so angry that they threatened to leave the Serpent River-and this world-unless Rossaruss gave in to their demands.
This threat was exactly what Rossaruss had been waiting for.
Politely but firmly, she refused the mermaids one last time and wished them a safe journey to the other world.
Now these words took the mermaids aback. They could not believe that Rossaruss would risk losing their delightful company. But the mermaids were too proud to take back what they had said, and so they made preparations to go to another world. Up until the very last moment, even as they stepped over the gate from this world to the new one they had chosen, the proud mermaids expected Rossaruss to relent, to promise to return the fish and beg them to stay. But Rossaruss merely bid them farewell, smiling all the while.
Ever since that time, the river has been free of mermaids. And if you ever find a cage in which a strange bass and eel swim with two carp and three pikes, leave them be-we don't want those pests to come back.
