“We won't speak of this again,” Hypatia said hoarsely.

Magnus replied in a gruff voice, “Fine.”

The way he said it spoke volumes. That what they'd done together was of no consequence. That it wouldn't haunt them the rest of their days.

She watched the camel cart pull the heavy wooden rain barrel through the Aegyptian gates. That was the end of it.

“What will become of you, Sirena?” she whispered.

“You named her?” hissed Magnus. “Mother of Christ. Isn't that exactly what I told you not to do?”

Hypatia blinked away tears. She'd thought he loved her. That she was his Cleopatra. He was her Antony. She'd been a fool.

“Let's go,” he said.

But she stood rooted, watching the cart rumble behind the camel through the courtyard of the grand palace. Veils covered the portholes in the barrel as if it were a boat turned inside-out. There was nothing to see now, only a wooden cistern filled with sea water.

“It's over,” he said, pulling her away, back toward the shore of Alexandria.

*     *     *
Weeks earlier, Hypatia had been repairing a fishing net on the shore of her small isle when a bent-over woman approached her. She looked more Greek than Aegyptian. Leaning on a staff with one shoulder, she made her way carefully among the rocks. Her other arm carried a large reed basket. Her arms trembled with fatigue.

“May I sit here a moment?”

“Of course,” said Hypatia. Her calloused fingers worked the net, braiding and tying.

“There's talk of a sea nymph out by the reef,” said the woman.

“I heard.”

“Spawn of Poseidon.”

Hypatia laughed. “If you believe in the Greek gods.”

“Scoff at your peril! But the elder gods are leaving.”

“Yet the sea nymph stayed.”

“For a little while. She'll either join her father or return to her mother's form. Show me your palms.”

Hypatia stopped her work and held out her hands.

The woman's skin was dry, nearly as pale as papyrus in contrast with Hypatia's dark skin. Her finger traced the lines on Hypatia's left palm.

“I see your father left before you were born. A Greek, yes? But your mother stayed: an Aegyptian with Nubian blood. Your complexion favors hers.” She switched to Hypatia's other palm. “This line starts with a man. But then it goes two ways, rich or poor. Have you met him yet?”

“Magnus,” said Hypatia. “And the line is poor.”

“Poor is harder. Does he love you?”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps something can change the line.” She released Hypatia's hand and revealed what was in her basket: a large fur pelt, dark brown.

“A seal skin,” said Hypatia. She touched it. It was the softest fur she'd ever felt.

“Like you, the nymph has two choices. She can rejoin her father, or she can become like her mother. But to do that, she needs her mother's coat.”

“Her mother was a seal?”

“No ordinary seal. And this is no ordinary coat. Can you imagine the gratitude of Poseidon's daughter?” She held out the pelt to Hypatia.

“I’ve nothing to trade for it.”

“Those are beautiful combs in your hair.”

Hypatia shook her head. “They were my mother's. My father gave them to her, then she gave them to me when she died.”

“I've been searching a long time for the right person to give this to. Isn't it worth your combs?”

Hypatia bit her lip. The combs were priceless, the only things left from her mother, the only things of value she possessed. She stared at the pelt.

“Perhaps I haven't found the right one,” said the old woman. She sighed and folded the pelt back into her basket.

“Wait!” said Hypatia. She pulled the combs from her hair and handed them to the woman.

*     *     *
That evening, Hypatia showed Magnus the pelt.

“What happened to your hair?” he asked.

“I traded my combs for the sealskin.”

“For this? I could have speared you a seal. What will you use for your hair now?”

“I still have my hair. And the skin is enchanted!”

“Does it magically catch fish?”

“No. It's to barter with the sea nymph. The crone said she would reward us.”

“And you believed her? Oh, Hypatia, you're so...”

“What?”

“Pretty.”

She looked him in the eye. “You can only use that so many times.”

The next morning, a warm breeze blew from the Mediterranean. Magnus rowed her out to the reef in his fishing boat, oars creaking as the boat rocked.

She spread out the pelt on the rocks just above the waves. The fur glistened in the sun. Gulls cried overhead, and she breathed in the salt smell of the sea.

Not until afternoon did she catch a glimpse of the sea nymph: a head appearing and disappearing in the waves. But getting closer, curious like the gulls. Hypatia watched the dark face watching her. The nymph's arms stroked through the waves, then with a flip of her short dark tail, she was gone.

Late in the afternoon, Magnus rowed his boat back to the rocks.

“I saw her,” said Hypatia.

“Did she sing?”

“No. She could see I wasn't a man.”

“Did she see the pelt?”

“I'm not sure. I'll try again tomorrow.”

The next day, the nymph came closer. Hypatia held up the pelt, and when that had no effect, stepped into the warm water, letting wet sand slide into her sandals. She swished the pelt back and forth in the waves enticingly. The nymph watched for a while, then dove beneath the waves with a flip of her tail.

“You should sing to her,” said Magnus that night.

“Me?”

“You have a beautiful voice. As good as hers.”

The next day, Hypatia sang Aegyptian lullabies, as if the nymph were a child, and Greek love ballads, as if she were a seductress. The nymph stayed longer, listening to her sing. She came close enough that Hypatia could see she wasn’t an adult. She had dark eyes and hair like a seal's mane, if seals had manes. When she swam on her back, Hypatia could see the beginnings of breasts, too small to suckle. Her skin was the same brown as Hypatia's, her arms well-muscled.

The next day, the nymph listened again, but came no closer. Nor the day after that.

“I told you the pelt wasn't enchanted,” said Magnus when he helped her into his boat.

“Maybe she doesn't remember her mother,” said Hypatia. “Or her father. The elder gods left long ago.”

“Do you want me to help you catch her?”

“Catch her? But she trusts me!”

“Does she? And do you trust her? Would you swim out to her? To see whether she drags you down into the deep?”

Hypatia didn't answer.

“I didn't think so. So I'll catch her. Then you can offer her her mother's coat. If that's what you believe.”

“Just don't hurt her.”

*     *     *
The next day was calm, without a cloud in the sky. Magnus rowed them out to the reef with a large waterskin sloshing in the bottom of the boat.

“Where have you seen her?” he asked.

Hypatia pointed.

“I hope she likes eels,” said Magnus.

Fishing them out one by one from the waterskin, he laid a trail of them in tide pools among the rocks, then tossed a few into the shallows of the reef.

“You think she's going to eat those?” asked Hypatia. “She's the daughter of Poseidon!”

“She is or she isn't, but a girl's got to eat.” Magnus went to crouch behind a rock.

Hypatia reached into the waterskin and dragged out a squirming eel with both hands, fighting to hold onto it. She held it over her head and began to sing. In the middle of the second song, she lost her grip on the slippery creature, and it fell into the surf. She waded in, with little hope of catching it.

“What happened?” called Magnus from his hiding place.

“I dropped--”

Then she saw a head in the waves, barely thirty feet away. “Shh!”

She began singing again.

The sea nymph held an eel to her mouth and bit into it.

Still singing, Hypatia stepped back onto shore and picked up the waterskin. There was one eel still struggling in the bag, and she fished it out. She held it out seductively as she sang. It threatened to slip from her fingers, and the sea nymph swam toward her.

By the time the nymph finished her eel, she was only ten feet away from Hypatia, in water just deep enough to cover her. She lay there as shallow waves broke over her back.

Hypatia let the eel slip from her fingers. The serpentine creature flopped and writhed between sand, rocks, and water as Hypatia stepped back.

The nymph crawled out of the surf, pulling herself toward the eel. That exposed her hindquarters: the tail and flippers of a seal. From head to tail she was less than four feet long.

Hypatia changed the words of her lullaby, singing of a maiden emerging from the sea.

Magnus took the hint, leaping from his hiding place to hurl his fishing net over the nymph.

Hypatia thought the nymph would sing at the sight of him, mesmerizing him. But the nymph squealed, struggling backwards toward the surf. She thrashed in the net, becoming more tangled.

Magnus dragged the net over rocks as Hypatia sang to calm her. The nymph whimpered, trying to grab at rocks and sand through the net.

He stopped a short distance from the water, net and nymph tangled together beside him. Her hind flippers beat frantically against the rocks.

“Isn't she pretty?” said Hypatia.

“I thought her tail would be different.”

“Different how?”

“I don't know. Scales.”

“On a seal?”

He shrugged, reaching out a hand to stroke the nymph's fur.

She twisted within the net, biting his hand.

“Kiss of Judas!” He jerked his hand back, raising it to strike her.

Hypatia caught his arm. “Don't hurt her!”

“She bit me!”

“You frightened her.”

He glared at the nymph, pressing his bleeding hand to his mouth.

Hypatia fetched the sealskin and held it close to the nymph.

“Do you remember Mama?” she asked sweetly.

“She thinks you're going to skin her.”

“No she doesn't. Mama. Mama,” she crooned.

“She'll bite you.”

“She won't. I gave her an eel.”

“Which I caught!”

“I'm sure she'll reward us both.”

Magnus laughed. “Oh, Hypatia. You're so...”

“What?”

“Hopeful.”

She nodded. “We'll take her home with us.”

*     *     *
It wasn't easy getting her in the rain barrel. And it turned out that eels were the only fish she would eat. Magnus spent all his time fishing. When he wasn't fishing, he was trading other fishermen for more eels.

Hypatia hadn't told anyone. She still sang to the nymph, gradually winning her over. The nymph let Hypatia stroke her hair, but not Magnus. She didn't sing like in the stories. Hypatia decided that was a myth.

When Magnus came near, the nymph would hide at the bottom of the barrel. He salvaged two portholes from a shipwreck so he could see her in it, then refilled it with sea water. She stared sullenly at the portholes from the bottom of the barrel.

*     *     *
A week later, he came home with news. “Governor Flavianus agreed to buy her.”

“You told someone!”

“Hypatia, we've spent everything we own on her. She's never going to reward you. She'd never seen that pelt in her life. The old woman tricked you.”

“But sell her?”

“She's living in a rain barrel! The governor of Aegypt will put her in the imperial bath of the palace. He'll fill the bath with eels. She'll be much happier there. Eventually she'll sing for him. She'll never sing for us.”

Hypatia looked at the barrel sadly. “I thought she'd want her mother's coat.”

They loaded the barrel into the boat, and Magnus rowed it past the Lighthouse to the shore of Alexandria. Magnus warned the Romans at the palace to put beeswax in their ears so the sea nymph wouldn't bewitch them. They naively believed him.

Hypatia watched forlornly as the cart carried the barrel with Sirena into the palace.

“It's over,” said Magnus.

*     *     *
But it wasn't.

Once they sold her, Magnus rowed them back to the isle. For a week, they didn't speak. Of the sea nymph or anything else. Hypatia stared at the sea, remembering Sirena's face pressed against the bubbled glass of the porthole. Did Magnus feel the same way? Did he feel anything at all?

It was Hypatia who finally broke the silence. “We have to buy her back.”

“What?”

“It was a mistake. We still have the gold. We can go to the palace and ask for her back.”

“Don't you know what will happen? The Romans will take the money, keep her, and throw us out on the street. Or worse.”

“You told me we could trust them.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “That she'd be happy swimming in a Roman bath filled with eels. Singing for the governor. Maybe we were never meant to be, you and me.”

He sighed. “It sounds like you want to split the gold. You're rich now. It won't take you long to find someone new.”

“I never wanted the gold! I want to free Sirena!” She began to sob.

Magnus put his arm around her. “Then we'll have to steal her back.”

“What? We will?”

“It won't be easy,” he said. “We'll need a few things.” He counted on his fingers. “First, a money changer. Then find an apothecary. A wineskin of Roman wine. And a lady's gown.”

“I already have a dress.”

“It's not for you.”

*     *     *
Those things weren’t on the isle, so Marcus rowed them to Alexandria. They bargained using his fish market Latin and Hypatia's Aegyptian-accented Greek.

When they walked to the palace at sunset, they wore Roman clothing. It was finer than what they'd had on the isle, even though it was used, not tailored. Hypatia carried the extra gown, neatly folded in a reed basket. Magnus carried the wineskin.

No guards stopped them when they walked between the stone sphinxes. They were going to the Roman baths, not Governor Flavianus' private halls. Mosaic tiles inlaid on the walls showed the way in icons even an Aegyptian could understand. And if the Romans had doubts about the shade of Hypatia's skin, Magnus looked Roman enough.

Near the baths, an ornate mosaic indicated the men's baths. Magnus asked an attendant about the women's. The Roman stared at him blankly until Hypatia pantomimed. He nodded, understanding. But when Magnus said, “Poseidon's daughter,” his expression changed. He demanded money, far more than admittance to the baths. He furtively led them away from the men's baths.

“If she's happy, we leave her,” Magnus hissed. “Agreed?”

Hypatia nodded. Secretly, she hoped Sirena was unhappy; that she'd be overjoyed to see them.

The mosaic sign for the women's baths was much smaller. Probably only wives and mistresses of the Roman imperials came here. And Sirena, the governor's imperial sea nymph.

Hypatia wondered what the wives thought of the eels in their bath. She led the way ahead of Magnus. Twilight came from an opening in the roof. But instead of Aegyptian slave attendants, a Roman guard sat on a bench in the stone chamber.

He looked at Hypatia and barked a Latin slur for Aegyptian women that Hypatia knew all too well.

“Poseidon's daughter,” said Magnus, trying to sound like an imperial, not like the provincial he was.

The Roman held out his hand, rubbing his fingers for money. Marcus opened his coin bag and counted out coins in the Roman's palm.

Hypatia's eyes widened. Magnus was counting out gold, not silver.

When the Roman nodded and closed his hand, Magnus' fist lashed out. The blow struck the Roman's nose with a fisherman's strength, knocking his head against the stone wall with a loud crack. The guard tumbled senseless to the floor.

“Magnus!” cried Hypatia.

“He said I'd have to wait my turn,” Magnus panted. “A man's with her.”

“Sirena!” She turned, looking at the doorways. “Which way?”

Magnus studied the mosaics and pointed.

Hypatia started to run toward it, but he grabbed her arm.

“Wait here,” he ordered, pushing past her.

She ignored the command, following at his heels. Loud splashing echoed in the corridor ahead.

They burst into a chamber with a round pool set in stone. A hole in the roof let in fading light from outside. Two figures were in the bath, one small, one large, splashing as they circled each other. The man held a whip, and as it lashed out toward Sirena, she plunged underwater. In a flash she darted toward him. Hypatia saw her bite the man's leg, then retreat. The water was stained with blood. “They chained her.”

“Roman!” shouted Magnus.

Sirena looked at him. The man didn’t. His ears were stuffed with beeswax.

The Roman swept the whip back, and Magnus caught it, jerking him backwards to the edge of the bath. When he turned, Magnus knocked him senseless.

“Oh, Sirena,” cried Hypatia. She knelt by the bath.

Magnus pulled the unconscious Roman from the water.

Sirena watched them warily, staying at the far edge of the bath.

When Hypatia began to sing, Sirena relaxed, swimming to the center of the bath. There were dead eels floating in the water. The nymph looked gaunt. A long chain went from her metal collar to a bolt set in stone at the edge of the bath.

“It's a lock,” said Magnus. “Her collar. See the keyhole?”

Hypatia saw it through tears. “What can we do?”

“I'll check the guard for a key.”

Their plans had gone horribly awry. The wine, which Magnus had brought to drug the guards, was useless. They should have brought a hammer and chisel.

Magnus returned at a run. “I found it. Coax her to the side of the bath.”

Hypatia swung her legs over the edge.

“Careful,” warned Magnus. “She'll–”

“I trust her.” She dropped into the blood-tainted water. It was deeper for her than for the Roman. Her head was barely above water. She swam toward Sirena, singing. The nymph stayed in the middle, tail beating slowly. Hypatia's long Roman gown, heavy with water, dragged on her movement. She reached out her arm, touching Sirena's hand, stroking her small fingers. Then she grasped her hand gently, still singing as she coaxed her to the edge of the bath. She could feel the strength in the nymph's fingers, stronger than her own.

In the edge of Hypatia's vision, she saw Magnus reach toward Sirena's neck. The nymph surged from the water, driven by her tail, and bit his arm.

“Mother of Jesus!” he shouted.

Sirena dropped back below the surface, swimming swiftly to the middle of the bath.

“I was trying to help,” groaned Magnus.

Hypatia heard the pain in his voice. “Give me the key,” she said.

He handed it to her, and she made her way back to the middle of the bath, singing a different song. This time, she didn't try to pull Sirena, but slowly stroked her arm, her shoulders, her mane. She hugged her gently, skin to skin, feeling the nymph's fast-beating heart. With one hand, she traced the chain up to Sirena's neck. She felt around the metal collar with her fingertips.

She found the keyhole. Sirena's eyes looked deep into hers. Hypatia kept singing as her other hand slowly brought the key up. It scraped in the lock.

Click.

The collar opened and dropped into the water, chain sinking quickly to the bottom of the bath.

Sirena pushed Hypatia away, plunging beneath the water. Hypatia fought for balance as the nymph circled her underwater, a blur of speed unencumbered by the chain.

“Hypatia!” called Magnus, alarmed. He ran to the side of the bath where stone steps descended into the water. He started down.

“No!” said Hypatia. “Stay out! I'm all right.”

“What's she doing?”

“She's free. She thinks. She doesn't know where we are.”

“We have to get her out of the bath. Out of the palace.”

Hypatia nodded. “Get the basket.”

Magnus ran back to the outer chamber. He returned with the basket and began pulling out the different garments.

“Just the tunic,” she said. “Toss it to me.”

“It'll get wet.”

“Like me.”

She caught the long tunic and unfolded it in the bloody water. There were no sleeves, and the loose-fitting robe billowed around her.

Curious about the tunic, Sirena stopped circling. She drifted underwater, batting at the hem of it.

Hypatia released it to drift among the dead eels. She undressed in the water, pulling off her stola and tunic, and set them adrift, standing naked in the bath.

After a minute, she took a deep breath and ducked underwater. As Sirena watched, Hypatia struggled back into her tunic.

Then she caught the other tunic and spun slowly, pulling it through the water to straighten it. As she did, Sirena darted into it with seal-like grace. Dressed like a Roman lady, her head and shoulders emerged from the water. Her tail beat slowly within the tunic, holding her up.

Hypatia laughed and clapped. Singing, she swam toward Sirena and took her arm gently, prodding her toward the stone steps. Marcus backed away, giving them room.

She hugged Sirena to her, sweeping one arm beneath her tail. The nymph pressed her head against Hypatia's neck and wrapped her arms around her.

As she sang, Hypatia staggered up the stairs, carrying her out of the water. Gasps punctuated Hypatia's singing. She sang about a maiden's burden, and that there were times when a man should let her be. Magnus took the hint.

Hypatia wasn't sure how long she could carry her, but if Sirena dove back into the bath, they'd never get her out again. Sirena's heart pounded like the waves of a storm.

As Hypatia left the bathing chamber, she heard the chain rattle behind her. Sirena tensed. Hypatia turned to see Magnus pull the chain and collar from the bath. He locked the collar around the Roman's neck.

Hypatia sang about how the maidens wished to share a veil. Magnus dug through the clothing in the basket till he found it. He wrapped it around Hypatia's hair, letting it drape loosely over Sirena's. When they reached the guard with the broken nose, he swept up the coins and emptied his wineskin over him.

The longer Hypatia held Sirena, the more the stone floor felt like the rocking of the sea. She swayed with each step, wondering how much longer she could carry her.

Magnus sidled toward her, trying not to startle Sirena. He placed his arm under Hypatia's, careful not to touch the nymph's tail. Gratefully, Hypatia leaned her weight and Sirena's on his strong arm, and together they staggered out into the palace corridor.

Romans looked at them, shaking their heads. The three kept walking until they reached where the palace opened onto the courtyard. Two Romans stood guard.

Magnus sang in a slurred voice, “And the sisters were, oh so fond of wine.” He swung the empty wineskin.

Sirena's tail thrashed against Hypatia's arm. Hypatia joined Magnus in the refrain, drowning him out, and the nymph relaxed.

The guards waved them past.

The palace stood by the harbor. The sea seemed to draw her, but with each step, Hypatia's legs grew weaker, as if they weren't part of her anymore. She barely made it to the shore. Magnus caught her as her knees buckled beneath her on the wet sand. Salt water seemed to course in her veins, keeping time with the rhythm of the waves. Her ears roared with wind and sea.

Sirena, still clinging to her, breathed in her ear: one word, the only one she'd spoken in all their time together: “Mama.”

Then she broke free, wriggling toward the water in the moonlight. She slid into the waves, beneath the surface.

“Sirena!” cried Hypatia, struggling after her. Her legs had no strength to stand, twitching like flippers. She made it into the water, but her arms were too tired to swim. She tried to inhale the sea and gagged, coughing up salt water.

Magnus picked her up in his arms. She continued coughing as he held her. Together, they looked out on the harbor while waves washed against his legs.

After a few minutes, the nymph's gown floated in on the surface of a wave.

Hypatia sobbed, her body shaking as she watched the open water. She saw the small dark head on the waves, watching them. Then Sirena vanished with a flip of her tail.

Strength gradually returned to Hypatia's legs, and Magnus helped her stand.

“It was time to let her go,” he said softly.

Hypatia said nothing, watching the waves.