Free Storm Singing and other Tangled Tasks by Lari Don Page B

sat up straight. “Am I bald?”
    “No!” they all said, too fast to be reassuring.
    “Your mane is a bit bushy,” added Yann, “and an interesting shape, but it’s fine.”
    “Bushy! And interesting!” Helen wailed. She turned round to look at the chain. Little knots of wet dark hair were tied to four huge rusty links. Rona had cut as close to the chain as possible, and the knots of hair looked like a line of spiders perched on the metal.
    Helen lifted her hands to her head. Her hair was damp and crinkly, and her scalp was very tender, but she still had lots of hair.
    “Do you want a mirror?” asked Rona.
    “No,” said Helen firmly. She put her hand in her jeans pocket, pulled out a wet hair bobble, tied her hair into a messy ponytail, and stood up. “It’s only hair. I wasn’t competing with the mermaids anyway. Thank you all for saving me. Let’s get to your feast.”
    Helen led the way up the winding tunnel, and soon she could hear voices chattering, cups clinking and the occasional burst of laughter.
    Were the mermaids laughing right now, imagining Helen cold under the water?

Chapter 11
    When the dishevelled group entered the warm brightness of the feast, Rona returned to the top table. Lavender led the rest to a table nearer the water, where the blue loons were spread out along the benches.
    Yann said cheerfully, “Move over, friends, this is our table too.”
    The blue loons grinned, and shifted to make space. Helen smiled. Clearly the tug-of-war had been the perfect way to make peace.
    She sat down in the middle of a bench beside Tangaroa, while Yann settled himself at the end of the table. Even though he was kneeling on the ground, his head was still higher than the seated blue loons and Helen.
    He handed the axe back to Tangaroa. “Thanks for lending me this.”
    “No problem, land warrior. Why did you need it in such a hurry?”
    “To cut our human friend free from an underwater grave, but I’m glad we didn’t need it.”
    Tangaroa turned to Helen, but before he could say anything, she asked, “Why did you bring an axe to a feast?”
    “We always have a few blades with us. Some boats are sturdier than others, and harder to sink. Putting a hole under the waterline usually works.”
    He hefted the axe through the air before laying it at his feet, then asked, “Was your hoofed friend serious? Were you trapped underwater?”
    “Yes. Those murderous mermaids over there tied me to a heavy weight and left me to drown.” Helen spoke quite loudly. All the blue loons heard her, and a few selkies turned to look at her.
    Then the guests swivelled round to stare at a carved wooden tabletop floating in the water in the lower half of the cave. A table surrounded by mermaids, swishing their lacy tails, flicking their hair over their shoulders, and feeding each other small seaweed snacks.
    The mermaids completely ignored their audience, so the guests stared at Helen again. She turned bright red, as she realised she had no real evidence the mermaids had tried to hurt her. Lavender said she’d been fine when the mermaids left, and surely someone would have noticed if the mermaids had sneaked away from that floating table. Why would the mermaids try to drown her? Why would anyone try to drown her?
    Strathy made a loud, provocative remark at the top table, so the guests swung away from Helen to look at him. All except the mermaids, who now glanced at Helen, their pretty faces sharp with surprise.
    As the food was served, Helen realised she couldn’t reach the mermaids to ask them questions, and they couldn’t reach her to drown her or do her hair. So she might as well eat her tea.
    She looked at the platters in front of her, filled with fried and dried fish, smoked and steamed fish. Then she looked at the hands either side of her, serving sand-eel stew, stirring fish-egg soup, breaking open baked crabs.
    Blue hands.
    But sitting so near, looking so closely, Helen noticed the hands weren’t blue at all.