There was an Old Fisherman who plied his trade upon the sea, but never went out of sight of land. For he had been told when he was very young by his grandfather, who had been told when very young by his grandfather: beyond sight of land lie the waters of the fishmen. Their ways are not our ways. They do not come into our waters, so we should not go into their waters.
And one day the Old Fisherman told this tale to his own grand-daughter.
He said, when you are grown up and go out upon the sea, do not go out of sight of land, for beyond sight of land lie the waters of the fishmen.
And his grand-daughter said, what are the fishmen like?
And the Old Fisherman said, he did not know. He said, their ways are not like our ways.
And his grand-daughter said, what are the ways of the fishmen like?
And the Old Fisherman said, he did not know. He said, they do not come into our waters, so we should not go into their waters.
And his granddaughter said, why do the fishmen not come into our waters?
And the Old Fisherman said, he did not know. Then he said to himself, I would like to know. I am old now, and I do not care what people think. So he told his grand-daughter to go off and catch sand-crabs on the beach, and he told his two sons and his three daughters that he was leaving on a journey, and he might be back tomorrow, or he might be back in a year and a day, but they should not worry about him, for the Gods could see him, wherever he was, as clear as gull’s droppings on a black tablecloth, so no more harm could come to him in one place than another place.
So the Old Fisherman sailed out of sight of land. And it seemed to him that the seas of the fishmen looked very like the seas of the humen, save that there was no land in sight. He did not see any fishmen. So he cast his net into the water and began to fish.
In as much time as it takes to name the Twelve Great Incarnations of Keth, the Old Fisherman felt something caught in his net, and when he pulled it out there was a fishman in it.
Good day! said the Old Fisherman.
Good day! said the fishman. I would be much obliged if you would let me out of this net.
With pleasure, said the Old Fisherman. But firstly, I would be much obliged if you would answer me three questions.
Ask away, said the fishman.
These are my three questions, said the Old Fisherman. What are the fishmen like? What are the ways of the fishmen like? Why do the fishmen not come into the waters of the humen?
And the fishman said, this is what the fishmen are like. The fishmen are sturdier than other kinds of men, for water and air are alike to them, and they can live well in each. But on land they are the slowest kind of man, and in the water they are fastest. The fishmen are wise, and remember everything that happens to them, and everything they hear and see, from the moment they are born until a thousand years have passed. They are born from stones at the bottom of the sea, and after a thousand years they turn into stone again, so they have no male or female, no bearing or begetting, no marrying or giving in marriage. The fishmen are cunning, and have made devices that can go about from place to place under the water, and send their words to their fellows in distant places, and make night into day, and water into solid land, and air into water. The fishmen are rich, and the poorest among them have spoons made of red coral, and knives made of black coral, and garments made from ten-thousand pearls, such as no king of the humen could afford. The fishmen are peaceful, and wish no harm to any other race of men, but want only to be left alone, They have all that they need from the sea, and need nothing that comes from beyond the sea. That is what the fishmen are like.
And the fishman said, this is what the ways of the fishmen are like. The ways of the fishmen are old, and have been handed down from before the beginning of the world. For the fishmen are more ancient than any other sort of man, and watched the Gods make the world from a drop of water, and everything they have seen over so many thousands of years they have written down on great tablets of black stone and sunk in the deepest parts of the ocean, where nothing will change until the world is ended. The fishmen have more laws than there are islands in all the sea, more customary ways than there are crabs on all the the islands in all the sea, and more tales than there are grains of sand on all the islands in all the sea. Master of all the fishmen is the Fishman King, who was born from a great green stone before the world was made, and will endure a thousand thousand years, until after the world is ended. Because the fishmen saw the Gods create the world, and saw how it might be improved, they never worship the Gods or pay them any heed, but follow the moral maxims that have been handed down by the Fishman King. The fishmen are respectful of their elders, but do not hold their young in contempt, and they clean their teeth after every meal. The fishmen do not cook their food, for there is no fire under the water, but flavour it with spices made from sea-things. The fishmen wear garments to protect themselves from cold, or biting things, or sunburn, but they do not wear clothing either to decorate themselves- for they think they are beautiful enough- nor for modesty, for they are neither male nor female. That is what the ways of the fishmen are like.
And the fishman said, I cannot tell you why the fishmen do not go into the waters of the humen, for it is forbidden to do so. You must seek that knowledge yourself, at the Lost Island.
The lost island? What is that? asked the Old Fisherman.
If I answer that question, will you let me go, since I am not permittted to answer the question you asked before? asked the fishman.
I would be pleased to, said the Old Fisherman.
And the fishman said, the Lost Island is where all the secrets of the sea are kept, and those who would be masters of the sea must be masters of the Lost Island, or else they will contend in vain, for their knowledge will only be a kind of ignorance. The Lost Island lies west of the sun, and east of the sun, in waters as green as poison, where night is as bright as day and the wind sings in the voices of men and of demons. But I cannot tell you where that place is. The Lost Island is lost, and no man living has ever see it, save for the Fishman King, and he has sworn an oath to tell no one for twice ten-thousand years, and Berima the Wise of the Tangled Sea, and she will tell no one save a man who can answer her three riddles. Only she can tell you where the Lost Island might be. If you wish to find Berima, sail north from here until you find a great iron pillar sticking out of the sea. Follow the flesh-eating birds that fly about that pillar to the place where they drop their bones, and ask the bonepickers that sail those waters the way to the Cursed Mountain of Jade. It is written by any number of sages that the Tangled Sea lies a hundred days sail due west of the Cursed Mountain of Jade. The Tangled Sea is a forest of seaweed greater than Koronad, and infested with every kind of sea-beast found in all the tales. It is a haunt of all the great and terrible creatures that dwell upon he sea: woldes, and sea-wreaves, and giant crabs, and sea-scorpions, and xerics big enough to carry off a ship. Any of the men who dwell there can tell you where to find Berima, and will guide you to her safely for a hundredweight of flawless pearls. And that is what I can tell you of the Lost Island.
Thank you, said the Old Fisherman, and he lowered his net and set the fishman free.
Thank you, said the fishman. It is good to meet a man who keeps his promises. Take this one pearl: it is the kind you will need a hundredweight of, to hire a guide through the Tangled Sea. And the fishman gave a flawless pearl to the Old Fisherman.
You are most kind, said the Old Fisherman.
Think nothing of it, said the fishman. And he disappeared into the sea.
After many long adventures which would be tedious to relate, for they were not at all unlike the voyages of Akaril the Pirate, or the Three Sons of Qataveran, or the lost Wives of Staameral, and shared too many similarities to ennumerate with the travails upon the sea of the Crew of the ‘Chalcedony Magistrate’ or those of Crooked Tish Balatish, the Tailor of Calrat, who crossed the Tangled Sea not once, but three times, the Old Fisherman found himself at the entrance to the Cave of Berima.
I will wait here until you come back,’ said the Old Fisherman’s guide, a Horned Woman as tall as a tower, with a sword of black iron as long as herself, with skin as blue as sapphire and as hard as hammered steel. For I do not like to look upon Berima. She turns my blood to water, and I weep like a child.
And the Old Fisherman said, Very well. I will take no more time than is needful.
The Old Fisherman set his way down the steep and slimy steps to the Cave of Berima the Wise, dug into its pinnacle of stone in the midst of the Tangled Sea. Down, down, down he went, and his only light came from a glowing fish he had found by the iron pillar of the flesh-eating birds. At the very bottom he saw the light of a fire, and knew he had come to the abode of Berima the Wise.
How is it possible to imagine what Berima the Wise is like? You must think of all the old wise women you have known, and all the haughty schoolmasters, and all the learned priests; all the judges, tax-collectors, guards, and captains of guards, that you have seen passing by; all the Kings, Empresses, and Dukes that you have ever heard of in tales, and you must roll all their authority together into one woman. One woman who says to her fire, ‘burn,’ and her fire will not go out, not for a hundred years, because she has commanded it, and she is one who speaks with authority. Berima the Wise was an old woman, seeming about the same age as the Old Fisherman, and she wore a plain grey dress with a kerchief on her head.
Sit down and have some tea, commanded Berima the Wise, and the Old Fisherman obeyed.
He was grateful that she did not say, grow wings and fly to the stars, because he would have obeyed her in that, also.
I suppose you are here to learn where the Lost Island may be found, said Berima the Wise, when the Old Fisherman had finished his tea.
Yes, ma’am, said the Old Fisherman.
Berima the Wise said, You will need to answer my three riddles, and then I will tell you.
Yes, ma’am, said the Old Fisherman.
And Berima the Wise said, this is the first of my three riddles:
All my life I followed my queen, and I never caught up with her.
In the end she led me back to the place where I started.
Naked I saw her dive into the water, and from afar she made me wetter than any man ever did.
That is the sun, said the Old Fisherman. Which dives into the sea at sunset, and makes us all sweat in the summer. I heard a riddle very like it in the tale of Minaz, many years ago in the marketplace.
And Berima the Wise said, this is the second of my three riddles:
By day and night my queen gave me no rest.
She made me rise higher than any other woman could.
Once a month she dazzled me with the whiteness of her body.
Once a month she hid herself from me in shame.
But her heart was of stone, and now she is more lost than any other thing.
That is a tricky one, said the Old Fisherman. But I heard one very like it from my great-aunt. It is tricky, because it is for a thing we do not have. The answer is the moon of Old Earth, and the one who tells the riddle is the sea.
And Berima the Wise said, this is the last of my three riddles:
Rich men want my queen more than any treasure.
Beautiful women fear my queen more than any rival.
All men and women can find no pleasure, save with my queen, but none can keep her.
That is not a very difficult riddle, said the Old Fisherman. I heard one very like that when I was still a boy, and the answer is Time.
And Berima the Wise said, Very well, you have answered my three riddles, so now I will tell you where the Lost Island is. Draw near, and I will whisper it in your ear.
So the Old Fisherman drew near Berima the Wise, and she whispered it in his ear, and she told him not to tell it to another living soul.
Will you have some more tea? asked Berima the Wise, and the Old Fisherman politely declined.
Thank you, but I must go, said the Old Fisherman, as quickly as he could he went back up the steep and slimy steps to where the Horned Woman waited for him, before Berima the Wise thought to command him to do anything.
Is Berima not terrible? said the Horned Woman.
Yes, Berima is most terrible, said the Old Fisherman. And the Old Fisherman sailed away from the Tangled Sea in a particular direction (which he never told anyone, so cannot be told) and he travelled for a number of days (which he never told anyone, so cannot be told) until he came to the seas about the Lost Island. There it was as the fishman had said. The seas about the Lost Island were as clear as glass, and as green as poison. The skies about the Lost Island were mantled in clouds, which were black by day and shone silver at night, so that the night was as bright as the day. On the wind came the voices of men and demons, singing songs in languages known and unknown. From far away the Old Fisherman could see the Lost Island at last, and at the centre of the Island rose a mountain higher than any other mountain, piercing the clouds.
The Old Fisherman stepped ashore on the Lost Island. The first thing that he saw was a grassy glade with a table set as for a great feast, with every kind of delectable thing to eat. Around the table were Seven Maidens as green as poison, and made all of glass, so that you could see through them to things beyond.
Sit and eat with us, said the Seven Green Glass Maidens. We are lonely here, for we have not had any visitors since the young girl Berima came laughing ashore, an age of the world ago. We have no one to share our wine and sweetmeats with, and we would have you feast with us.
Thank you, but I cannot tarry, said the Old Fisherman. I am here to find the answer to a question. Can you tell me why the fishmen do not come into the seas of the humen?
No, we cannot, said the Seven Green Glass Maidens. You must ask the Five Sages of Imperishable Iron. They pointed upwards to a castle that clung high on the side of the mountain just below the clouds, like a fly clinging to a wall. They dwell in that castle. And the Seven Green Glass Maidens said in voices as plaintive as the last bird’s cry of evening: will you not eat with us first?
The Old Fisherman declined politely, and thanked the Seven Green Glass Maidens, and then he climbed the mountain to the castle, The path was no wider than his forearm, and fell away on one side to the bottom of the mountain, far enough to dash him to pieces a hundred times.
Inside the castle the Old Fisherman came to a grand chamber, in the midst of which was a table. On the table was a map of the whole world, and on it were ships moving across the water, and great storms moving from the north and from the south. When the Old Fisherman looked carefully he could see Berima making tea in her cave, and the bone-gatherers gathering bones, and the flesh-eating birds wheeling around the great pillar of iron, and even his own sons and daughters sitting down to dinner, wondering what had become of their aged father, and his grand-daughter late to dinner, still playing with sand-crabs on the beach. Around the table sat Five Sages, as still as statues. They were made of imperishable iron, even to their long beards and their flowing robes, and they watched every thing that moved over the surface of the world.
Sit and watch with us, said the Five Sages of Imperishable Iron. We have watched you come from afar, as no one has come here since the young girl Berima came dancing into our chamber, an age of the world ago. We have no one to show all the things that move over the surface of the world, whether through the air or over the water.
Thank you, but I cannot tarry, said the Old Fisherman. I am here to find the answer to a question. Can you tell me why the fishmen do not come into the seas of the humen?
No, we cannot, said the Five Sages of Imperishable Iron. You must ask the Three Swordswomen Woven of Pure Song. And they pointed to where the Lost Island rose into the clouds on the map of all the world. They can be found above the clouds, at the mooring place of the sky-ships. And Five Sages of Imperishable Iron said in voices solemn and learned and heavy as gold: will you not stay here for a time, and take instruction from the wise?
The Old Fisherman declined politely, and thanked the Five Sages of Imperishable Iron, and then he climbed the mountain further. Ever steeper and narrower climbed the path, until the Old Fisherman was as far above the clouds as the sea was below the clouds. There he came to something like a great harbour built into the side of the mountain, with dozens of great sky-ships lying at anchor, floating on the air.
On the deck of one of the sky-ships were three women-at-arms, as nimble as thought, as quick as sunbeams, clashing swords one with another, and laughing as they fenced. They were not made of flesh and blood, but woven out of pure song. Their muscles were made from the music of harps, and their bones of the music of flutes, their sinews of the music of horns, and their blood of the music of drums.
Come and try your skill with us, said the Three Swordswomen Woven of Pure Song. We know all each other’s tricks, and no one has fought with us since the young girl Berima bested us, an age of the world ago. And they showed the Old Fisherman a chest of black iron, bound with seven chains and sealed with seven times seven padlocks. In that chest is the secret of commanding all things under the sun, said the Three Swordswomen Woven of Pure Song. Best us in battle, and it is yours.
Thank you, but I cannot tarry, said the Old Fisherman. I am here to find the answer to a question. Can you tell me why the fishmen do not come into the seas of the humen?
No, we cannot, said the Three Swordswomen Woven of Pure Song. You must ask the Immortal Emperor of Starmetal and Emerald. And they pointed yet farther up the sheer side of the mountain. He can be found at the garden at the top of the mountain, where the sky ends. And the Three Swordswomen Woven of Pure Song said in cajoling voices sweeter than any music of men: fight us but once each, and then we will take you there in one of our sky boats.
The Old Fisherman declined politely, saying that he was but an old man, and had no skill with the sword, and thanked the Three Swordswomen Woven of Pure Song. They took pity on him, and told him to take one of their sky boats the rest of the way, saying that if he was an old man he would certainly fall from the mountain and die. Then laughing they returned to their swordplay.
The Old Fisherman thanked the Swordswomen Woven of Pure Song, and took one of their sky boats.
Higher and higher went the Old Fisherman, past walls of rock as smooth as a mirror, until the sky became black though the sun was still high. As he neared the place where the sky ends he could look down upon the stars, and see the world spread out beneath them like a blanket. At the top of the mountain was a garden, and in the garden was a pool, and in the pool was a fishman.
Good day! said the fishman.
Good day! said the Old Fisherman.
Thank you again for letting me out of your net, said the Fishman King- for it was he.
Think nothing of it, said the Old Fisherman. I would be much obliged if you would tell me why the fishmen do not come into the waters of the humen.
You have done very well, said the Fishman King. When I saw you cast out your net, I hoped you would be the one. I would be much obliged if you would join me now, so we might rule the world together, and make laws for fishmen and all other men to follow, until the world is ended.
Thank you, said the Old Fisherman. But I have only come here to learn the answer to my grand-daughter’s question.
You are certain that is all you want? asked the Fishman King. I have treasuries full of every kind of riches, and marvellous magical instruments to do every kind of task, and knowledge of all the secrets above and below the sea, and servants more numerous than the stars of the sky, skilled in every kind of craft that has ever been devised.
No, thank you, said the Old Fisherman. I fear that all of those things would only cause trouble.
So be it, said the Fishman King. ‘You are probably right.
A year and a day after he set out on his journey, the Old Fisherman returned to his home. He came in just as his sons and daughters were sitting down to eat, and he sat down with them.
How was your trip, father? his sons and daughters asked the Old Fisherman.
And the Old Fisherman said, It was not without interest. I will tell you all about it after we have eaten. I have missed this soup. It is just what I wanted.
And then the Old Fisherman asked, Where is my young grand-daughter?
She is still out playing on the beach, said the girl’s father. I will call her inside.
When dinner was finished the Old Fisherman told his tale, and he answered the three questions his granddaughter had asked. He told her all that the Fishman King had told him of what the fishmen were like, and all that the Fishman King had told him of what the ways of the fishmen were like, and he told her what the Fishman King had told him of why the fishmen did not come into the seas of the humen.
This is what the Old Fisherman said: The fishmen remember everything they have ever seen, and everything they have ever heard, and no place on the world holds more mystery for them than this kitchen holds for us. They do not know any mystery, but they think it is good that there are other sorts of men who can find mystery in the sea. That is why they stay away, so we can make up what tales we like about the sea, and not ask them. Beside, they have not been asked to come into the humen parts of the sea, and they are too polite to come without being asked.