After three days, Helmut decided he badly needed a drink.
The promise he'd made to Mame before she died and an instinctive dislike of crowds was usually enough to keep him away from the tavern in the center of town, but the last three nights had been unbearable. It was going to take something more than the little bottle of brandy he had squirreled away beneath the bedspread to chase away the questions swirling around in his head. The stuff was old and smelled of vinegar anyway.
No, dropping a young girl from a bucket of seawater was going to take considerably more than a bottle of brandy to forget.
Helmut shuffled into the tavern, avoiding the crowd of musclebound men clustered in the middle of the bar, guffawing loudly and shouting over one another as a pair in the middle clenched hands in a fierce attempt to break the other's hand. It was a popular game by this time of the night, outright brawling being forbidden until after hours. He seated himself at the farthest end of the bar, close to the wall.
Nearby sat a young woman, sitting at the bar with a empty glass in front of her, staring at her hands. She glanced up briefly when Helmut sat down, flashing green eyes taking him in with total disinterest. He had huddled closer to the bar, throbbing head in his hands.
Greer found the old fisherman mumbling to himself in this position moments later. He curled his lip with unease. Helmut had always been fairly quiet. Greer discreetly leaned closer.
“Bucket...lady...”
The old barhand leaned back. Seemed he was missing Mame tonight. His eyes darkened sympathetically.
Helmut flinched when a tall, dark ale slammed down on the counter beside him, sloshing a little onto the bar. Greer was standing on the other side with his arms folded, his greasy brow knitted and eyes defiant.
“Take it. Seems like you need it.”
The fisherman took hold of the mug, eyes widening when Greer turned around without elaborating, rubbing the pale spot on his left hand where he had, until recently, worn a gold band. Helmut flushed when he realized what the younger man must be thinking. Still, he was grateful for the gesture. He took a long drink, squeezing his eyes shut. He wiped his mouth, rubbed his forehead, and took another drink.
After a few minutes of this, he felt like throwing the glass across the room.
The alcohol wasn't making anything make any more sense.
“Girl...” he muttered, putting one hand, palm-up, on the counter. “Bucket—sea foam... Advo—Adam—Adva?” he continued, putting the other hand down. He moved the two up and down as if weighing something heavy in each hand, then groaned and took another drink.
The woman with the green eyes glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow, then turned back to her drink as Greer filled it again. Once the barhand had moved away, her head tilted slightly towards the fisherman.
Greer watched him from the corner of his eye as he brought another round of drinks to the regulars at center counter. Helmut was drinking quickly, still talking to himself, gesturing. Curiosity stirred in Greer.
The girl's head turned almost imperceptibly towards them.
“Who're you talking to, Helmut?”
The fisherman looked up at him blearily, the alcohol already starting to make his vision go a little out of focus.
“Myself, I s'pose.” He looked down at his hands. “Myself again.”
Greer took his glass away and refilled it from a nearby barrel. “Pull in a good catch this week? Sea's looked uncommon fair for the past few weeks.”
“Uncommon fair. Yes,” agreed the fisherman, a glum looking crossing his features. Greer handed him his glass and he immediately downed half, coughing when he was through.
“Ho there. Not so fast, you have to take time to enjoy the flavor.”
“No time,” Helmut muttered. “Got to get drunk.”
Greer couldn't help but laugh. “Come now, life isn't so bad!”
The fisherman took another long drink and slammed the glass down on the counter. At Greer's protest, he waved his hand. The barhand flinched when the older man grabbed his arm with a liver-spotted hand.
“Sea water goes in, ocean goes in, girl comes out. Beautiful girl comes out! I don' understand, Greer.”
The barhand jerked his arm out of Helmut's grip.
“Too much too fast, friend?” He started to take the ale from him, but found the fisherman waving his hand again.
“Now, I ain't drunk yet,” he explained, and grabbed the ale. “Not yet. First I'll tell you. Then I'll get drunk. Someone should hear about it. Somebody gotta make sense of this for me.”
Greer paused uncertainly. Helmut certainly didn't sound drunk. The man slurred badly when he was, so that his words were nearly indecipherable. The barhand folded his arms and waited.
Helmut pushed his ale to the side, holding up both hands.
“Now, I won't drink while I tell you. I wanna show you, I ain't tellin' you this as because I'm drunk. This, it's a true story, and it's three days ago it happened. Now, listen.” He cleared his throat and counted on his fingers. “Now, three days ago, I head to the water. I want to get me some water to boil fish in.”
He eyed the drink with longing, then shook his head, continuing.
“Well, now, there's sea foam in the bucket! Normally dissolves, so I think nothing of it, but it's still there when's I reach the house, so thinks I, the floor is dirt, I'll pour the stuff out.” He made a pouring motion with his hands. “And there she is!”
“There's who?” said Greer, raising his brow.
“Well, there she is! The girl from the sea!” Helmut scratched his head. “Wearing a nice dress an' all. Barely even wet. Loads of brownish hair. Or reddish hair. Blamed stuff seemed to change in the light. Pretty as a painting. Unnatural pretty.”
Greer coughed. “That's...mighty strange, Helmut.” He began to turn to find something else to do, changing his mind about the fisherman's sobriety. He'd obviously had a little to drink even before he walked in.
But the fisherman grabbed his arm. “Wait a secon' Greer! Now, what's it all signify? She run off lookin' for the prince after I told her what he was crazy an' all now. Call herself Adva. Now ain't that the name of the little lass Prince Peter were so smitten with? Now, weren't she dead? You think I seen a ghost?” He shuddered and took a long drink. “But she were alive. Felt cold an all. Gave her the blanket to warm up. Smelled like sea-brine an flowers after. She told me she were alive when I ask.” Now he let go of Greer's arm and slouched over his drink.
The barhand moved away quickly, unable to hold back a loud guffaw. The farmers at center counter were calling for him to officiate an arm-wrestling match. Normally he'd scold them for getting rowdy at his bar, but tonight he was grateful for any excuse. The wild look in Helmut's eyes was unsettling.
The fisherman looked dejectedly into his cup until he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at the young woman there with unsteady vision. She was tall and slender, her features strangely sharp, bright green eyes hard. Her stained, gray cloak parted to reveal a simple blue dress with a tight brown girdle. Thick auburn hair tumbled freely about her shoulders. She regarded him with a neutral expression.
“Ho there, sir. What did you say this girl called herself?”
Helmut flushed. “Oh, it probably weren't nothing. Maybe I dreamed the thing.” Greer's disbelief had stung even through his inebriated state, and he had no desire to be laughed at again.
“Yes, maybe,” the woman shrugged. “But I'm curious just the same. What was her name?”
The older man plucked at his graying beard nervously. “I don' remember if I have it right. Seems to me it was 'Adva.' Or something like it.”
Something like fury flashed briefly across the young woman's face. She quickly replaced her disinterested expression, but it was too late. The old man leaned away from her with instinctive fear.
“Who are you? Why are you wantin' to know names of my dreams?”
The woman stepped away from him, putting on a comforting smile and laughing a little. “I'm merely a nosy sort of person. Couldn't help overhearing your story.”
She extended a hand.
“Call me Sophia.”
He took her hand hesitantly, not shaking. Instead, he peered at her closer. Suddenly, he gripped her hand tightly, eyes widening.
“You—you look like her! That hair—those unnatural eyes!”
She wrenched her hand from his.
“It's no fault of mine I'm in some dream of yours, you fool!” she spat. “You'd do well to keep such things to yourself!”
The woman pulled her cloak tightly around herself as she left the tavern, no one noticing her exit save Helmut, who sat agape for a few moments before returning to his drink.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
