The Mermaid's Tale

by D. G. Valdron

  “It would be like Vampires coming to buy fish,” the Dwarf joked.

  “Funny,” said the Vampire, her eyes dancing. “Maybe you like to walk with all these fish?”

  “What were you doing there?” the Dwarf asked.

  I shrugged. “Looking for work. There’s a war coming.”

  They chuckled.

  “Smart Hagrik,” the Vampire laughed. “Very smart. War won’t touch the Selk. Selk never war. They keep to themselves, look after their own. Don’t get involved.”

  “Not,” said the Dwarf, “a bad philosophy.”

  “I hear that Vampires and Dwarves fight?” I asked curiously. They seemed too comfortable with each other. It was almost like they started and finished each other’s sentences.

  “That’s not us,” said the Dwarf. “That’s the rich and the powerful. The Totems with too much wealth and too little sense. Ask me,” he grumbled, “everyone should leave everyone alone. It’s hard enough to get along as it is.”

  “War,” he spat. Then he went silent for a moment, his eyes misted, as if he was looking at something inside himself. His lips moved. Then he spoke again. “You know about the last war. Worm Totem. Mighty in the Kingdom. Ruined. Nothing but ruin. That’s war.”

  “Curling Tusk Lineage,” the Vampire said, “mightiest of the southern lines. Ruined.”

  “What do we get in return?” the Dwarf asked. “A band of Kobolds, running around in the mud, digging holes and proclaiming their Secret Kingdom.”

  “Fools!” he said. “What will the next war bring? A parliament of rats? A confederacy of carrion birds?”

  “Orc Nation?” the Vampire said.

  “Ah,” the Dwarf said, “she makes a joke. Ha ha. No, nobody learns anything. What did the last war bring? Ruin and misery. What will the next bring? More of same.”

  “No war,” said the Vampire. “Won’t happen. Too many Traditional Vampires in the city now. Dwarves won’t risk fighting Traditionals. Even if they win, end of beast drives; herds don’t come, end of city.”

  “And the city Vampires are doing their best to keep as many Traditionals in the city as they can,” said the Dwarf.

  “Are they?” I asked.

  “It’s what I would do,” the Dwarf shrugged.

  “War will happen,” said the Gnome.

  “Oh yes,” said the Vampire rolling her eyes, “and you gamble with the High Gnomes. That’s why you’re riding a fish wagon.”

  “It’s common knowledge,” the Gnome said defensively.

  “What’s common knowledge?”

  “Snow Leopard Totem has invested too much to back down. No war, and they’re ruined. They’ve pulled four or five other Totems in with them.”

  “What about the Horsemen?” I asked.

  The Vampire jeered.

  “They call themselves Horsemen, but from what I’ve heard, riding isn’t the word for what they do.”

  “What is it that they do?” the Dwarf asked.

  “What they’re good at, I’m told, isn’t so much riding, as managing not to fall off.”

  “You’ve seen the Horsemen ride?” I asked. I’d watched them. They weren’t as good riders as Vampires, but they were good.

  “I’ve just heard about them.”

  “I’ve seen the Horsemen,” the Dwarf said. “Strutting assholes. Won’t eat fish. Only meat.”

  “The Horsemen are the key to the Snow Leopards plans.”

  “Then they’re ruined. Maybe a sensible Totem will take their place.”

  “What Totem are you?” I asked.

  “Fish hawks,” he said proudly.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Like a Hagrik keeps track of the Totems, eh?” he laughed at me. “We’re a city Totem, not very big, not recognized by the Kingdom.”

  “Sort of a Secret Kingdom,” I baited him.

  It was my turn to laugh, as he cursed me hotly, for my suggestion of Kobold taint.

  “The Horsemen are important to the Snow Leopards plans,” the Gnome repeated, trying to move the conversation away.

  “Well then,” said the Vampire, “they’re ruined from the start. The lineages will cut them to pieces.”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” the Gnome persisted. “The Snow Leopard Totem bought the Horsemen, then they used the Horsemen and their wealth to win control of the Human Kingdom.”

  “Might as well win control of an anthill,” the Dwarf joked.

  “They had to use all their wealth and credit to get the Human Kingdom under the horsemen, but then they used their power in the Human Kingdom to bring the other Totems under them. Then they used that to consolidate their hold on the Humans. Very clever.”

  “How long can they hold the Human Kingdom?” the Vampire scoffed. “A week or two, before the Humans break apart and go following the next chieftain or shaman.”

  “Or the Totems,” the Dwarf said, “I can’t see the other Totems bearing the expenses of this adventure with the Humans.”

  “That’s why they have to make war,” the Gnome said. “Sooner or later, it all falls apart. Their only chance to hold it together is to win wealth and power from the Vampires to cover their debts.”

  “Fat chance,” said the Vampire.

  “They bring the force of two Kingdoms.” The Gnome shrugged.

  So war was inevitable. That seemed to cast a pall over the group.

  “I heard that the Selk had Mermaids?” I said. “Half Selk, half fish.”

  “In Selk waters, there are a few.”

  “What are they like?”

  The Dwarf shrugged.

  “Only saw them a few times. Mostly from a distance. Once one came up close and looked at me, but then she got bored and swam away. They’re like Selk, only with a fish’s tail.”

  “Where do you find Mermaids?” I asked. “I’d like to see some, sometime.”

  The Dwarf shrugged.

  “They have their places.”

  “Easy to get to?”

  Shrug.

  “Where would you go?”

  He turned to me.

  “You talk a lot for an Arukh,” he said accusingly.

  “Not talk,” the Vampire said suddenly. “Lots of Arukh talk. This one asks questions. Arukh don’t ask questions. Not unless they’re up to something.”

  “What do you want?” the Dwarf asked harshly.

  “Nothing,” I said suddenly. “Just talking, that’s all.”

  “Not just talking,” the Dwarf insisted.

  He raised a hand, bringing the wagons to a halt.

  “An abomination in Selk territory. I’ve never heard of that. I don’t think it’s good. Now the abomination asks questions. Wants to know about Mermaids. I don’t think that’s good either.”

  “Arrah,” I rumbled.

  “You think you can just walk in there. No. The minute you step into Selk territory, they watch you. No place to hide, no place to skulk. Only Selk, everywhere you look, and you.”

  “Whatever you’re planning, forget it. It won’t work. And don’t think you’ll be able to get back. When I return, I’ll warn them about you.”

  “Mind your own house,” I snarled.

  “Selk aren’t my people. But they’re people, and they don’t do anyone harm. I’ll be damned if I see a thing like you among them and say nothing.”

  I growled deep in my throat, rocking back and forth. The Dwarf took a step back.

  “Don’t try it,” a voice warned behind me.

  I turned a little, to see. The Vampires crouched on their oxen, ready to spring.

  “Arrah?” I made the sound deep in my throat. “I’m not afraid.”

  “You can’t fight us all,” the Dwarf said. I turned back to him. “Go away. Get out of here.”

  I turn
ed from one to the other, and then stalked away, snarling. They watched me for a while, before starting up their caravan again, much more cautious now.

  I wasn’t much bothered. Growling is a way of life. I thought about the conversation. Their bickering had been interesting but inconsequential. But the way they’d reacted at the end suggested that they knew something was wrong among the Selk.

  If I believed them, there’d be no way an Arukh could walk in and steal a Mermaid.

  I’d walked pretty freely through Selk lands. But I hadn’t actually threatened anyone. What if I had? Would there be resistance? How long would it take?

  I’d be noticed though. I believed that. The fishermen had known about me, about why I was there. So had the Mermaids. What the Dwarves said about being watched and being seen rang true.

  So how did an Arukh, how did anyone, steal a Mermaid without being seen?

  I went to the local market and bought dried fish from a fishmonger. I was suddenly aware of how many fishmongers there were.

  I climbed a wall and chewed dried fish slowly, watching the city from my perch.

  How do you steal a Mermaid, without being seen?

  You can’t.

  Which suggested two things: One, the theft had been seen, and the Elders were not telling me things.

  Why do that?

  Two, the Mermaid hadn’t been stolen. Instead, it had come on its own, to a place where it could be taken.

  Had Mira been seduced, lured to her destruction? Perhaps.

  By an Arukh?

  Most of us weren’t that good.

  I’d been the first Arukh the others had seen. Wait, was that true? Yes, upon reflection I thought it was. I could ask directly. But anyway, that didn’t necessarily mean that Mira hadn’t seen one. Perhaps she’d said something.

  I’d have to talk to the Mermaids again.

  A small Arukh, I thought. Male. Iron knife. Very mad. Very clever. Very, very clever, I added to his description. Stealthy enough to go unseen, clever enough to lure a Mermaid.

  I threw bits of dried fish for the birds, watching carrion crows fight over them.

  A mad, clever Arukh. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.

  The Downriver, when I returned, was buzzing with news of another battle.

  Every Vendor, every little clump and group of people I encountered spoke of nothing else. Rumours flew back and forth, heroic battles, great victories, terrible disasters. The elements were in upheaval and the waters ran red with blood.

  The Vampires, it seemed, had tried to take the Lesser Market. They’d run a stampede in. That much it seemed was agreed upon.

  The Horsemen had simply allowed Vampires and animals in, killing at the entrances until the ways were blocked by mounds of dead beasts. Then they and the Dwarves had slaughtered the Vampires trapped inside, and taken great wealth in horses and cattle.

  Some said that the Vampires had merely demonstrated their power, had taught the Dwarves a lesson in that they could stampede beasts where and as they pleased. No one quite dared to call it a victory for the Vampires.

  It was generally seen as a great disaster for the Vampire Kingdom. Many Vampires had died, even Traditionals. Many beasts had been lost. The Dwarves and Horsemen would have meat for weeks.

  I listened with only mild interest. Thinking of my Arukh.

  Was he wild? I wondered. Living and hiding alone in the Downriver?

  Somehow I doubted it.

  It wasn’t safe for an Arukh alone. Goblins and Hobgoblins were well behaved when we faced them, but let them find a sleeping Arukh....

  I shuddered.

  Solitary Arukh did not survive long. We needed someone to shelter us. That’s why the Lodges existed.

  How long had the killings been going on? Weeks? Months? Too long for an Arukh that clever, and with an iron knife, that wealthy, to be on his own.

  He had to have a safe hole. A Lodge, or a band.

  But if he were with a Lodge or a band, then others would know of him. One way or another, they would know something of him, whether it was his cleverness, his tastes or his knife.

  Many of the kingdoms sponsored lodges in the downriver which offered food and lodging to Arukh to keep them out of their realms. It kept them safe from us, and when they had use for us, or when they needed to revenge some injury, they knew where to look.

  Greasy Thumbs was the largest Lodge. It was run by a family of Trolls, none of whom were named Greasy Thumbs. Most Lodges in the Downriver were run by Trolls, though it was mainly the Dwarves that hired from them.

  I was not such a fool as to enter a strange Lodge. There would be challenges and bellowing and perhaps fights as they sized me up and assessed my position in the Lodge.

  I only wanted information. I didn’t want to move in. Outside the Lodges, lone Arukh or small groups congregated, gambling or eating, gossiping or playing at mock combat. Someone beat a makeshift drum, while a few did shuffling dances. Here and there, Arukh gathered around small fires, sucking smoke.

  Outside, the challenges were desultory, easily avoided or overawed.

  I squatted outside and waited.

  Eventually, a male, grinning around split lips came over to me.

  “Where you come from?” he lisped

  “Iron Pants.”

  “What you want here?”

  “Smoke.”

  He grinned, showing blackened fangs.

  “Got smoke. Got good smoke.” He glanced at my body. “How you pay?”

  I threw him a piece of copper. He caught it effortlessly.

  “Good smoke inside,” he said.

  I laughed harshly. To follow him inside would be to walk into an ambush or rape.

  “Free smoke,” he said, smiling. Trying to tempt me.

  I grunted and gestured.

  “Over there.”

  He led me over to the smoke fire. Arukh were gathered around tightly, but he shouldered in and made a place for me with only a minimum of snarling.

  “I don’t know you,” the fire master growled.

  Blackened fangs grunted a few times on my behalf and I tossed the fire master a copper. He subsided.

  I wasn’t interested in smoke. I inhaled and then exhaled quickly, feeling a wave of dizziness pour over me, and then fade away.

  Talk was of the War and the recent battles. I listened, hearing nothing new, ignoring the speculations and guesswork.

  “I’m looking for an Arukh,” I said finally.

  Noncommittal grunts.

  I briefly considered holding up another copper. But that would just be an invitation to lie, or to try and take it from me.

  I gave them combinations of descriptions, trying to ring a response. Some of them seemed to respond to parts, but no one recalled an Arukh with an iron knife, or a taste for the sort of mutilation I described.

  “What you want with this Arukh?” the fire master asked.

  I shrugged.

  “To kill him,” I replied.

  They all shrugged and shuffled indifferently.

  I moved on, sitting near a group playing a game of bones. When the casts ended, I joined the new throws and again asked my questions. Nothing. I lost the coppers I gambled and moved on again.

  Disappointed, I went to One Tusk’s Lodge and found a small group of Gamblers. I won and learned nothing. I asked for clever Arukh, for Arukh with exotic knives and tastes.

  “Where’d he come from? Maybe we know him?” a one eyed male asked.

  It was a good question. Where had he come from? I wondered about it.

  He had to come from somewhere. That knife had to come from somewhere. Surely such a violent sexual madness had to have roots. Had he arrived from outside the city? Or had his madness grown slowly, flowering in blood?

  I adjusted my questions, looking for ne
w Arukh, fresh come to the lodges in the last few months. Or for solitary Arukh, growing stranger with passing time.

  Nothing.

  As the evening wore on, I wandered from Lodge to Lodge. Hovering outside until they accustomed to my presence. Sooner or later an Orc from the lodge would come out and squat before me. Or I would join a small group, gambling or smoking or gossiping. Sometimes I paid coppers, sometimes I lost them, or won them in games. Always, I asked questions.

  I learned nothing. There were many males. Some had the build I described, some were recent, others were clever. No one had a knife like the one I told about. Many had violent sexual madnesses, but none so virulent as I described.

  My Arukh didn’t belong to any of the Lodges I canvassed. If he existed, he had to belong to a small band, or be affiliated with a Kingdom.

  At a small Lodge run by Dwarves, I encountered something odd.

  “Saw a body,” a male fighter said. He wore good armour. “Like you say. Eyes, tongue, crotch, many cuts.”

  I threw him a coin.

  “Tell me,” I ordered.

  “A while back,” he said. “Months.”

  He shrugged.

  “Not much to say,” he grunted. “It was cut up like you said.”

  “Lots of blood?”

  He squinted, thinking.

  “Some. Not much.”

  He wasn’t communicative.

  “How’d you find it?”

  “Didn’t. Some Dwarf found it, we just came and collected it.”

  “Kobold body?”

  He glanced at me. “No. Dwarf.”

  He gave me a quizzical expression, as if to ask what possible interest a Dwarf might have in a Kobold Corpse.

  A Dwarf corpse. That made no sense.

  “Where’d you collect it?”

  “Up north city. Dwarf territory, just outside high Kingdom.”

  “Arrah,” I thought out loud. “near Vampire lands?”

  He shrugged.

  “Yes.”

  “Was this the only body you saw?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I ground my teeth, trying to think of things to ask him. He communicated almost nothing.

  “You work for Dwarves?” I asked finally.

  “We all work for Dwarves,” he said. “Dwarf Lodge. Well trusted. First called.”