‘She has friends?’ Dahlaine seemed a bit surprised. ‘I didn’t know there were any people here on the Isle.’
‘There aren’t, and even if there were, I wouldn’t permit her to associate with them.’
‘You’re going to have to get over that, sister. Eventually she will be required to have dealings with her own kind.’
‘What for?’
‘She’ll have to tell them what they’re supposed to do, Zelana. If her playmates aren’t people, what exactly are they?’
‘Dolphins, of course. She and the young dolphins get along very well.’
‘I didn’t know that dolphins can move around on dry land.’
‘They can’t. Eleria swims with them.’
‘Are you mad?’ Dahlaine almost screamed. ‘She’s only five years old! You can’t just turn her loose in Mother Sea like that!’
‘Stop worrying so much, Dahlaine. She swims almost as well as her playmates do, and she finds most of her food out there in deep water. It saves me all sorts of time. She feeds herself, so I don’t have to bother. She does seem to like berries – when they’re in season – but most of the time she eats fish.’
‘How does she cook them if she’s out there in the water?’
‘What is “cook”?’ Zelana asked curiously.
‘Just a custom, really,’ Dahlaine replied evasively. ‘You ought to try to keep her out of deep water, though.’
‘Why? She swims mostly along the surface, so what difference does it make how much water’s down below her?’
Dahlaine gave up. There was just no talking with Zelana.
Though Zelana would not have admitted it even to herself, her life was much more pleasant now that she had Eleria to love and to care for. Since Eleria was able to find her own food and she had playmates enough to keep her occupied, her presence in the grotto in the evenings was hardly any inconvenience at all. Zelana was still able to create poetry and compose music, and Eleria served as a ready-made audience. She loved to have Zelana sing to her, and she seemed to enjoy listening to the recitation of Zelana’s poems – even though she didn’t understand a single word. She was now well into her sixth year, but she continued to speak exclusively in the squeaky, piping language of the dolphins.
Zelana considered that. It wasn’t really all that much of a problem, since she herself was also fluent in that language. She decided, though, that perhaps one of these days she might teach the young one the rudiments of the language she spoke and shared with her sister and her brothers. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Zelana had discovered that Eleria was very quick.
As it turned out, however, Eleria was about two jumps ahead of her. Zelana had been reciting poetry to the child since Eleria’s infancy, and one day in the early autumn of Eleria’s sixth year Zelana happened to overhear the child reciting one of the poems to her playmates, translating each line into their own language as she went along. Zelana’s poetry took on whole new dimensions when delivered in the squeaks and burbles of the dolphin language. Zelana was fairly sure that the young dolphins weren’t really all that interested in poetry, but Eleria’s habit of rewarding their attention with kisses and embraces kept them obediently in place. Zelana was very fond of dolphins herself, but the notion of kissing them had never occurred to her. Eleria, however, seemed to have discovered early in her life that dolphins would do almost anything for kisses.
Zelana decided at that point that it might not be a bad idea to start paying closer attention to the progress of the young child. Lately it seemed that every time she turned around, Eleria had a new surprise for her.
‘Eleria,’ she said a bit later when the two of them were alone in the grotto.
Eleria responded with a squeaky little dolphin sound.
‘Speak in words, child,’ Zelana commanded.
Eleria stared at her in astonishment. ‘It is not proper that I should, Beloved,’ she replied quite formally. ‘Thy speech is not to be used for mundane purposes or ordinary times. It is reserved for stately utterances. I would not for all this world profane it by reducing its stature to the commonplace.’
Zelana immediately realized where she had blundered. In a peculiar sort of way she’d treated Eleria in much the same way the child was now treating her dolphin playmates. Eleria had been something on the order of a captive audience – but not quite completely captive. The child had drawn her own conclusions. There was a certain logic behind Eleria’s conviction that Zelana’s language was reserved for poetry alone, since the only times when Zelana had spoken that language to her had been during those recitations. Ordinary conversations between them had been in the language of the dolphins.
‘Come here, child,’ Zelana said. ‘I think it’s time for us to get to know each other a bit better.’
Eleria seemed apprehensive. ‘Have I done something wrong, Beloved?’ she asked. ‘Are you angry with me because I told your poems to the finned ones? You didn’t want me to do that, did you? Your poems were love, and they were for me alone. Now I have spoiled them.’ Eleria’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Please don’t send me away, Beloved!’ she wailed. ‘I promise that I won’t do it again!’
A wave of emotion swept over Zelana, and she felt her own eyes clouding over. She held out her arms to the child. ‘Come to me,’ she said.
Eleria rushed to her, and they clung to each other. Both of them were weeping now, yet they were filled with a kind of joy.
Zelana and Eleria spent all of their time together in the grotto after that. The dolphins brought fish for Eleria to eat, and the trickling spring provided water, so there was no real need for the child to go out into Mother Sea. Her playmates were a bit sulky at first, but that soon passed.
Zelana spent many happy hours teaching Eleria how to create poetry and how to sing. Zelana’s poetry was stately and formal, and her songs were complex. Eleria’s poetry was still antique but much more passionate, and her songs were simple and pure. Zelana was painfully aware that the child’s voice was more beautiful than her own, clear and reaching upward without effort.
Eleria eventually came to realize that the language she had come to know as the language of poetry had a more colloquial form which they could use for everyday communication. She still insisted on calling Zelana ‘Beloved,’ however.
It was in the spring of Eleria’s seventh year when the child went out to play with her pink friends again. Zelana had suggested that Eleria had been neglecting them of late, and it was not polite to do that.
Late that day Eleria returned to the grotto with a strange glowing object.
‘What is that pretty thing, child?’ Zelana asked.
‘It’s called a “pearl”, Beloved,’ Eleria replied, ‘and a very old friend of the dolphins gave it to me – well, she didn’t exactly give it to me. She showed me where it was, though.’
‘I didn’t know that pearls could grow so large,’ Zelana marveled. ‘It must have been an enormous oyster.’
‘It was huge, Beloved.’
‘Who is this friend of the dolphins?’
‘A whale,’ Eleria replied. ‘She’s very old, and she lives near that islet off the south coast. She joined us this morning and told me that she wanted to show me something. Then she led me to the islet and took me down to where this enormous oyster was attached to a reef. The oyster’s shell was almost