Her tribute to the Sea Queen due by midnight, Lorelle scanned the sea floor for shells. High above, beyond the water and through an impossible thickness of air, the waning moon rose. Lorelle’s satchel bobbed lightly against her scale-encrusted hip. An abandoned shell caught her attention. Lorelle undulated her tailfin and swam to get a closer look.

 

Four hermit crabs clutched each other in a line next to the empty shell, arranged from largest to smallest.

 

“Too big for you?” Lorelle asked the largest crab, a purple pincer who went by the name of Swirls.

 

“Another season and it would fit me fine, Mermaid,” Swirls said.

 

“We don’t have another season,” Pinky, the smallest crab in the chain said. “This shell is too tight. I can barely move.”

 

“His shell is too big for you,” the smaller of the middle crabs said.

 

Lorelle didn’t recognize him or his neighbor, and she knew every creature, permanent and migratory, in the seagrass meadow she tended.

 

“I don’t want his shell,” Pinky said to the stranger. “I want yours.”

 

“You can’t have it until I get his,” the crab said and rapped his pincer on his neighbor’s shell.

 

One more hermit crab of the right size was all they needed. One large enough to move into the vacant shell and then each crab down the line would size up. When Pinky relinquished her home, Lorelle would have one more small shell for her tribute to the Sea Queen.

 

Lorelle’s higher position in the water gave her perspective. Shadows crawled along the murky bottom, kicking up poofs of sand. Microcurrents wafting over the fine hair on her arms gave her the general location and number of arriving hermit crabs. “More come,” she said.

 

Cutter, a local, edged into the clearing. The two middle crabs split apart to let her into the chain between them.

 

“I don’t know you two,” Lorelle said as the crabs shifted their grips on their neighbors. “What brings you to my seagrass meadow?”

 

“I’m Gill and that’s Lev,” the smaller stranger said and pointed to the crab he had just split away from. “We’re from the island shallows.”

 

Islands were land, and land meant humans. Lorelle’s tailfin flicked in interest. These crabs had probably seen humans.

 

“There aren’t any shells left in our waters,” Gill said.

 

Swirls huffed. “Shells are there if you know how to look for them.”

 

“We traveled far and long to get here,” Gill replied. “We would not have journeyed unnecessarily.” His eye stalks swiveled to take in Cutter. “Each year there are fewer and fewer lovely purple pinchers to woo. The great disappearance is coming.”

 

“I’ve heard of such things,” Pinky said. “Whole reefs abandoned. My cousin said a sea turtle told him the southern seagrass meadows are gone.”

 

The crabs muttered varying responses of disbelief.

 

“I haven’t traveled far,” Pinky protested. “I only know what I hear. What do you hear, Mermaid?” Pinky asked. The others fell silent.

 

Lorelle sculled her hands at her side. “Rumors,” she said. “Perhaps some truths. The tributes my queen desires have been difficult to obtain.” Her satchel floated in the current, not nearly enough shells within, and each too small for Pinky to wear as her home. She regretted she could not offer her a trade-up. Lorelle couldn’t recall the last time she had brought a full offering to the Sea Queen.

 

Three more hermit crabs scuttled into the group and jostled for position. When they were sorted once more, Digi, one of the newcomers, circled the vacant shell. She looked at Lorelle. “Don’t let Swirls claim my shell until I know this new one fits.”

 

“You have my word,” Lorelle said.

 

Digi crackled and snorted as she slithered out of her shell and situated herself in the new one. Lorelle eyeballed Swirls for any motion that might betray an opportunistic rush for Digi’s abandoned shell. The crabs clicked and clacked against each other.

 

The crab behind Swirls, another stranger, wedged one leg between Swirls and his shell, ready to peel the larger crab free from his home. Pinky’s claw rapped against the next crab’s shell. It was only a matter of time before they turned on each other. The Sea Queen would be displeased if the increase in shells was due to a decrease in the population of her subjects. “How’s it feeling, Digi?” Lorelle asked.

 

“Perfect,” Digi said. “Go ahead, Swirls. I tried to keep it clean, but you know how it is. Things get tight and cluttered.”

 

Swirls heaved himself out of his shell and into Digi’s, and so it went, chaining all the way down to Pinky’s delighted exultation in her new home. Lorelle picked up Pinky’s vacant shell and added it to the others in her satchel.

 

“Back to the island shallows?” Lorelle asked the two foreign crabs as they headed north.

 

“A long scuttle,” Gill said. “Lev almost didn’t make it here. He’ll likely die on the way home.”

 

“I’m feeling much better,” Lev’s voice came out low and slow. “The expansion has relieved the cramping and I can breathe again.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Lorelle said. “Safe journey.” The local crabs dispersed, celebrating their new homes. Shamed at the lightness of her satchel, Lorelle swam for the Sea Queen’s trench with the hope her offering would be enough.

 

Just past the continental shelf, thick cold water pressured Lorelle into the depths. Wary anglers and shy puffers peered out from coral crevices as she swam by. Sharp though her teeth were, Lorelle had no interest in preying on them. The plankton she collected through her fringed rills as she swam were enough to sustain her.

 

The waters sped her through the tunnel of coral rubble to the Sea Queen’s cavern, lit by a faint bioluminescent glow.

 

The Sea Queen’s throne was a great nautilus shell, the altar before it a wide wooden plank from a sunken ship, barnacled and foreboding. The floor’s mosaic of bone and stone mimicked the spiral of the nautilus shell. Bowed before the throne, Lorelle gripped the stones with her fingertips and fought her natural buoyancy.

 

“What have you brought me, Little Lorelle?” the Sea Queen asked from within her throne, but Lorelle knew she had already delved the satchel’s contents.

 

The Sea Queen’s front arms emerged from the nautilus shell, followed by her head with its crown of antennae. The rest remained cloaked in darkwater. The Sea Queen said, “Not much, by the sound of your satchel.”

 

“I am sorry.” Lorelle edged forward, belly pressed against the mosaic, and emptied the satchel onto the altar. The Sea Queen extended her arms and picked over the shells, pinching them between her long claws.

 

Lorelle hung her head and waited for the Sea Queen’s judgement.

 

The Sea Queen reached deep into the nautilus, and pulled out a broad scallop shell tray filled with baby hermit crabs. The homeless juveniles squeaked and clattered their tiny legs against each other. The Sea Queen raked her claws through the jumble. The strongest crabs latched on. She flicked the babies onto the altar among the shells Lorelle had brought.

 

“Why so few?” The Sea Queen asked, intently watching the babies.

 

“Shells are getting harder to find,” Lorelle said.

 

The baby hermit crabs scuttled about, examining the shells and trying them on for size. When they were done, a trio of crabs were left without shells. The Sea Queen returned them to the nursery while the little ones with new homes scuttled towards the current.

 

The Sea Queen said, “Soon they will be too big and will cannibalize the little ones. I will be forced to turn them out, easy prey for some bottom feeder. Why are the shells scarce?”

 

“I’ve only heard rumors,” Lorelle swallowed. “Rumors about the island shallows north of my seagrass meadow. The shells are gone from there and they are disappearing from my meadow as well.”

 

“The shallows. The shore.” The Sea Queen said. “Humans.”

 

“Humans,” Lorelle echoed. She’d seen humans. From afar. Gangly, indelicate creatures unsuited to the water. Some mermaids made sport of them at lonely beaches between dusk and dawn. Humans were not creatures of the sea, and should be caught and released. But not all of her sisters timed their releases properly. Afraid she wouldn’t know when to throw them back, Lorelle avoided humans.

 

The Sea Queen instructed, “Little Lorelle, you must locate the missing shells. Go to the island shallows and investigate.”

 

Lorelle’s tail fin twitched and she struggled to stay in place. Though apprehensive of humans, the possibility of seeing the wonders the sea birds spoke of thrilled her.

 

The Sea Queen sank into the darkwater of her throne, dismissing her.

 

Lorelle dove into the current. It pulled her out of the Sea Queen’s cavern and deposited her in the coral reef above.

 

Lorelle swam through the reef’s bustle, keeping an eye out for the newly released crabs. She greeted acquaintances from her monthly offering, the whelks and conch who hunched over the surface and the little fish that gamboled in the crannies. Lorelle dipped and dove between the currents, gaining the fastest route home. Despite her haste to see the human lands, it took Lorelle most of the day to cross her seagrass meadow.

 

Sea urchins scoured the sea floor as she swam above them. They gnawed on kelp roots, inadvertently obliterating Gill and Lev’s trail. However, enough of their crab scratch remained to lead her to the island shallows and the great above beyond.

 

Lorelle bobbed in the shallows, water up to her eyes, and watched the beach. A human, a man, walked back and forth along the shoreline. He made many passes, his eyes always down on the sand and never out to sea. She decided it was worth the risk of examining the rocky tide pools on the far side of the beach.

 

The warmer water pulled her to the shore, drawing her closer to the land’s embrace. She propelled herself with the shallowest movements until she gained the deeper, rocky pools. Lorelle bobbed with only her head above water as she surveyed the nearly depopulated tidepools. The anemone closed as her gaze fell on them, shying away from her strangeness.

 

A cry shook the air from the rocks above.

 

Lorelle raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. The brightness and dry air made them water.

 

The cry came again, not a bird or an otter. A human. The man from the beach jerked forward on knobby legs, tripping his way down the rocks. He fell into the water and splashed towards her until the current pulled him under. Was he trying to rescue her?

 

Air. Humans needed air. When the man didn’t come back up, Lorelle dove and pulled him to the surface. The rocks were sharp. A cut on his foot oozed the metallic taste of blood into the saltwater. She swam him to the beach, making sure to keep his head in the air. He started coughing the moment Lorelle let the sandy shore take him from her grip.

 

The man sat up and expelled seawater from his mouth. He leaned over, heaving. Lorelle flicked her fin, staying as low in the water as possible. Her fins brushed the fine sand and disturbed the clams. The shallows were no place for a mermaid.

 

The man saw her. His eyes widened and sharp sounds came out of his mouth.

 

Unlike some of her sisters, Lorelle did not speak human.

 

She attempted to reassure him in her own language, “I’m looking for shells. I won’t harm you.”

 

Her fingers fished around the sand until she found an abandoned shell. She held it up out of the water and showed it to him.

 

“More?” She asked. He didn’t understand. She knew he wouldn’t. She showed him her empty hand and the imbalance between the two, and then searched in the sand again. She found another shell and showed it, grinning wide.

 

He scuttled backwards and stood. Lorelle had forgotten about her sharp teeth. She closed her mouth. She put both shells in her left hand and with her right, she pulled the water towards her, mimicking a gathering motion. The man made incomprehensible guttural sounds and ran away up the beach.

 

Lorelle had scared him off. More humans would come soon and she would have to leave. She turned her attention back to the shell shortage. She looked at the two she had picked up, expecting to find holes, cracks, or some other defect to make them uninhabitable. But, other than being small, they were perfect, the insides shining clean. Not only were shells scarce, but the hermit crabs as well. Lorelle didn’t see any scuttling along in the shallows. She slid the two shells into her satchel.

 

Sharp sounds from the shore pulled her eyes back to the man. He carried two large rectangular baskets and waded into the shallows. Lorelle flipped closer to shore, cautious of beaching. He knelt and put down the baskets. They rode low in the water and bobbed on the shallow waves between them. The man reached into the basket on the left and pulled out a hermit crab. It looked like Gill.

 

From the chatter, a collection of crabs remained behind in the basket.

 

“Gill, is that you?” Lorelle asked.

 

The air distorted the crab’s response beyond her comprehension, but she thought he waved an arm at her in recognition.

 

The man’s empty hand dug through the other basket in a dry clatter of vacant shells. He removed one and set it on his palm next to Gill. The crab waved its eyestalks and then exchanged his old shell for the new.

 

Lorelle reached out. If she could get Gill underwater, maybe he would explain why the human had so many crabs and shells meant for the Seat Queen in his baskets. The man pulled Gill out of her reach. As he returned him to the basket, Lorelle examined the beach-worth of shells in the other. More than enough for the crabs to grow into. These were the shells that had been missing from her tribute. Heavy and unwieldy, the basket did not move as easily as her satchel in the water. The man took it from her hands and walked it and the other onto dry land.

 

Lorelle could not follow. “Gill!” she yelled in crab language, “Are you well? Is Lev with you? Do you thrive?”

 

The crab’s air-distorted chatter revealed nothing.

 

The man set the baskets in the shade. Lorelle sculled the water with her hands at her side, holding herself in place, and considered the situation. The man seemed to have the right of things. He knew the environment the crabs needed, and he provided. Perhaps he understood crab language. He tended his beach just as she tended her sea meadow. He kept his crabs in baskets, safe from the unseen predators lurking in the landweed.

 

The man turned from his baskets. He waded back into the water, eyes on her. She reached out a hand and he took it. Lorelle smiled, this time keeping her sharp teeth tucked behind her lips. As her sisters said, humans always took what was offered.

 

His skin was hot against her own, but not as dry as she’d expected. She pulled him towards her in one bobbing motion. Face to face, their lips touched. A wave rolled through Lorelle from head to fin. She twined her tailfin around his legs and decided humans did hold some appeal. The tide ran out and the sand cradled their bodies long into the night.

 

On the next morning’s rising tide, Lorelle left the man sleeping on the beach and made her giddy way to the Sea Queen. She now understood why so many of her sisters mingled with humans. Once inside the Sea Queen’s cavern, the suffering cries of the small hermit crabs carried from the depths of the nautilus and pulled the smile from Lorelle’s face.

 

Lorelle placed the two shells from the island shallows on the altar. “My Queen, I found them. On land. I’ve seen crabs alive on land, with humans caring for them just as I care for my meadow.”

 

The Sea Queen’s hand darted out of the nautilus. She grabbed one of the shells from the altar. “Humans.”

 

The Sea Queen rose head and shoulders out of the throne. “They deprive the crabs of their rightful homes, their natural lives. Those creatures are unfulfilled,” the Sea Queen said. She held up the shell to her eye and peered into it. She frowned, seeing something inside Lorelle had not.

 

“The human knows their language,” Lorelle attempted to placate the Sea Queen. “The one I met. He was collecting shells for the crabs. Keeping them shaded from the harsh sun. Protecting them from predators.”

 

The Sea Queen shifted her gaze from the shell to Lorelle. Lorelle fell silent. She had intended to keep him private. Last night was for her alone, but she hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut.

 

“And what did the crabs say?” The Sea Queen asked.

 

Lorelle looked down at the mosaic and admitted, “I couldn’t understand them on dry land.”

 

“I will recover those poor caged creatures.” The Sea Queen returned the shell to the altar. “The island shallows. I know the place. I will find the man.” The Sea Queen disappeared into an eddy of bubbles.

 

It was futile to race the Sea Queen, but Lorelle knew the specific beach where the man could be found. The Sea Queen would have to search a little. It wasn’t much of an advantage.

 

Lorelle sliced through the water, fighting the current. She needed to warn the man away from the shore. It was her fault he was the Sea Queen’s target.

 

She found the rocky beach. His blood remained in the water, settled into the sand where it attracted the smallest bottom feeders. Lorelle slapped her wide tailfin in the shallows, churning up the sediment and making a ruckus. The shore creatures echoed with cries of their own. Lorelle didn’t care who heard it, it only mattered that the man heeded the warning.

 

The man emerged from the shadows of the tall, dense landweeds. Lorelle slapped the water harder. She drew up and bared her sharp teeth and yelled at him. “Go!”

 

He didn’t understand. He waded in the surf up to his waist. Lorelle charged, gliding over the water, trying to drive him to shore.

 

He did not give way. Her oncoming wave threatened to topple him, but the man caught her in his arms. The momentum knocked them both into the water and she slipped through his grasp. Hindered by the shallows, she wasn’t quite out of his reach when she came up facing him. He grabbed her wrist.

 

The water sucked back into the ocean. Lorelle flopped face down on bare sand. The man knelt at her side.

 

Lorelle sensed the water rising up behind her, a wall so high that it blocked out the sun. The man’s eyes grew as wide and blank as a tuna’s. She’d seen such a look before, prey surrendering conscious thought to inevitable death. “It’s too late,” she said.

 

This was going to hurt. The Sea Queen would have her revenge. Lorelle cringed.

 

The water crashed and the cascading wave broke the man’s grip on Lorelle’s wrist. She fumbled vainly for him, but currents whisked him into the dark depths of the open ocean. Lorelle struggled to maintain attitude in the chopping water. She couldn’t possibly protect him. A different current carried her elsewhere. Lorelle rode the rapids, hoping to survive.

 

A pod of trickster dolphins surfed alongside her. Then they changed direction and each one battered her on their departure. Tossed and turned, she lost control and tumbled until the current dropped her in the middle of the Sea Queen’s cavern.

 

Lorelle’s attempts to swirl upright were met by the Sea Queen’s cold stare. Lorelle stopped fighting and the water held her prostrate before the Sea Queen’s nautilus throne.

 

“You dared interfere with my justice?” The Sea Queen rolled a shell between her fingers.

 

“He was caring for them,” Lorelle said.

 

“You don’t interfere when I pull whaling ships to the bottom of the sea. You don’t interfere when I flood the lowlands and drown homes. You don’t interfere when I call inexperienced swimmers to my depths. My wave returned two dozen hermit crabs and four score shells to their proper homes. Why interfere now? Why for this man who was stealing from your offering?”

 

“He tended his home as I tend mine. He intrigued me.”

 

The Sea Queen tightened her fist around the shell. “Mermaids enchant humans. Not the other way around.” The shell cracked and a fragment fell, one more grain of sand in the ocean. “It doesn’t matter. Not a morsel of flesh remains on his heavy bones and the octopuses will make toys of those. Now for you.”

 

The Sea Queen’s magic swirled. Lorelle shrank. Her limbs shifted, contracted, multiplied. The metamorphosis doubled her over in cramps and crunching pain. Her skin chitinized, restricting her movements. Her eyes bulged out of her head. Her tail curled into a tight spiral that resembled the nautilus shell now towering over her.

 

Lorelle dropped to the ocean floor. She instinctively twisted to land on her arms, protecting the only soft skin that remained, her underbelly. Her arms had multiplied into multiple sets. Perhaps some of the pairs might be better called legs. She scuttled in the sand. Every brush of water stung her sensitive abdomen.

 

Gigantic, the Sea Queen dropped the small shell next to her. Vulnerable and exposed, Lorelle instinctively grasped at it. A cracked shell was better than no shell. She squeezed her soft coiled abdomen into it and immediately felt a little safer. The shell constricted. It was almost too small for her. The sharp edge of the crack dug into her soft skin.

 

“Be gone,” the Sea Queen said and sank back into her throne.

 

Lorelle’s unfamiliar legs needled into the sand as she balanced the shell on her back. The current caught her and pulled her from the Sea Queen’s cavern. It dropped her once more in the reef. She scuttled, anonymous, hoping to remain hidden and unobserved. It was a long way back to her seagrass meadow where she would search for a larger shell to call home.