Three Times Chosen

by Alan J. Garner

  "You already have it,” Lasbow promised. “A Seaguardian will buddy up with every Retriever that goes in."

  "And that guarantees their safety?"

  "Erops. Retrieving is the diciest job a merman can do. I can't give any assurances. Diving alone into the abyss, your divers are used to risk."

  "There's the extra danger the kraken poses, Sire."

  "When last we talked you implied there was a good chance the beast is nothing but a pressure-induced mirage."

  Rubbing his achy stump, Erops contradicted, “I said it might be a possibility. From the description you gave me of Atlantis, the dive on it isn't deep enough to bring on shell-shock."

  "We didn't come across any signs of a sea monster, inside or out,” the Merking avowed persuasively.

  The dive commander remained sceptical. “You only ventured inside for a short time and didn't explore very far on the grounds that the job was simply too big for one merman to handle, even if that individual happens to be kingly. That's why you're recruiting the services of my Retrievers to complete the survey. Only the Sea God knows for sure what's lurking further in, and He's not telling."

  "Don't say you believe in monsters, Erops."

  "Kindly do me the courtesy of not insulting my intelligence, King Lasbow,” the amputee diving coach retorted. “The sightings in the Deep are known to all. Maybe not accepted by everyone, but known nonetheless."

  "Snatches of shadowy shapes in the dark.” Lasbow's dismissive mutter was unconvincing even to his earholes. Deeper and older than comprehension, the oceans were likely home to any manner of undiscovered animal monstrosities.

  "There's a school of thought that these leviathans might be the ghosts of the vanished whales,” Erops offered up as an explanation.

  Memory of his encounter with the spectral White Whale, disturbingly fresh, flashed into the Merking's mind and his hands went shuddery. He clasped them behind his back to hide his nerviness.

  "I don't hold with it myself,” continued Erops. “When a sea creature dies, that's the end of it. It's gone, with nothing afterwards except oblivion."

  Lasbow found it profoundly odd Erops readily believed in monsters while scoffing at spirits. “Yet you dive for whalebone, sacred material said to contain the essences of our ancestors. Why bother getting into a line of work you don't have faith in?"

  "It's easier to trawl for bones than fish. A bone is inert and doesn't object to being netted.” Getting back to the point of their conversation, the dive instructor wanted to know Dribben's stance on the matter of the kraken.

  "You know how he is ... a gloomy guts,” Lasbow reported. “He predicts doom with every wave that crashes."

  "Yes, but what's his appraisal of Atlantis."

  "He refused point-blank to enter the stack."

  "How puzzling. Dribben is braver than that."

  Encumbered with Dribben's lie, Lasbow did not break that confidence and related a watered down version of the truth. “He's afraid that it could turn out to be the kraken's nest, home to its spawn."

  Erops reflected on the distant Retriever's dour estimation and then made the demand, “I want two Seaguardians escorting each diver."

  "That's out of the question,” the Merking denied him, finding the proviso unfunny. “Brost can't spare that number if he's to adequately protect this cove."

  Unbending, Erops put forth the argument, “Do you have any idea how long it takes to select and train a Retriever? Any fool can fish for a living, but few mermen possess the nerve for prolonged and repeated deep diving. Replacing even one of my divers who's lost to attrition, natural or otherwise, is a major inconvenience."

  Angered at Erop's audacity in making a stipulation, Lasbow was set to remind the dive boss just who was king here when Ochar's wisdom filtered back to him and he stopped himself speaking out of turn. He would not resort to the strong-arm style of kingship he had so despised in his predecessor. A Merking needed to rule with a coral fist gloved in sharkskin. Coming up with a solution, he suggested, “By halving the number of divers we send, we can double the escorts they'll team up with."

  "And double also their workload, Sire, which you'll no doubt expect to be done without delay."

  "Our people are anxious to be rehoused. That is my concession. I judge it a reasonable one."

  The Retriever tutor considered the compromise and nodded. “How soon do you want my merboys ready to leave?"

  "They'll have time to breakfast first,” said Lasbow. “One other thing. I want you onsite to oversee the dive from the shallows."

  Erops rubbed his hairless chin pensively. “Dribben's perfectly capable of handling that side of things, Sire. He's got more that enough experience under his belt to lead a multi-merperson dive without me looking over his shoulder."

  Lasbow reckoned otherwise. Dribben showed scant regard for his fellow merman, and Erops's confidence in the other's heroism, borne from gratitude and not trust, blinded him dangerously to that narcissism. A decent leader never entertained the thought of sacrificing those companions he led in order to save himself. By his own admission, Dribben had previously displayed no such compunction.

  "From what I've experienced of Dribben, he's woefully lacking in social graces,” Lasbow gleaned. “Putting him in charge of the expedition can only result in mutiny, as he'll rub all the mermen up the wrong way. There's too much at stake to let him muddy the water."

  "He'll resent my supervision,” Erops contended. “For all his grimness, Dribben has his pride. I don't want to be seen as rolling on his flukes.

  "That's not the only issue, Sire. You have to understand that my Retrievers are used to diving alone, working at depth unaided and reliant only upon themselves. Foisting Seagoons—begging your pardon, Seaguards—on them will almost certainly create an undercurrent of tension."

  Once again applying his conciliatory skills to the problem, Lasbow offered up a happy medium. “The Seaguard will individually be instructed that, when on the dive, the accompanying Retriever is fully in charge. They're to provide protection in case they swim into trouble, but otherwise not interfere with the divers performing their job."

  "They won't take kindly to that."

  "They'll tow the line with their captain present."

  "You're sending Brost too? With him gone, who'll be in charge of guarding the bay?"

  "I did command the Seaguard before my crowning,” Lasbow said petulantly, forgetting his regal, phlegmatic deportment.

  Erops smirked at the Merking's humanising show of emotion. The general public more readily identified with a royal who expressed feelings rather than bottle them up.

  Tackling the snag of not bruising Dribben's ego, Lasbow proposed, “Make Dribben your deputy, Erops. That gesture ought to smooth out any ruffled fins on his part."

  Glancing from his stump to his remaining hand, the head Retriever's grin broadened after he said, “At least I won't be running things single-handedly."

  Avoiding the small and casual wake, King Lasbow spent a busy afternoon touring the merfolk, informally spreading the official word to one and all that Atlantis was a factual haven, endearing himself to his subjects through his personable approachability. News of Lasbow's uncelebrated return the night before circulated with the quickness that gossip fosters, flowing in with the sallow wash of dawning light which had flooded the bay. A buzz of anticipation suffusing the wearied and homeless Castle Rockers electrified the water in the cove, the charged atmosphere heightened by the proclaiming Merking's news delivered in person. At last their worrisome days spent in transit looked to be over.

  Their gushing enthusiasm was tempered just as fast by the unusual goings-on of the Seaguard, Retrievers and scouts. The rapid assembling and dispatch of the thirty-odd strong force of specialist Fishers created rife speculation that their mythical destination did not seem the sanctuary it was cracked up to be. Right away Lasbow allayed such fears, smoothly saying that the advance guard was a precautionary measure only. There was no monster or enemy t
o flush out. The Fishers were simply swimming ahead to make their new lodgings presentable, or more properly securable, before they took possession. Only when that job was done would the Cetari move in.

  Gaining greater proficiency in the stately art of diplomacy, he further placated the masses by expounding the virtues of Delaware Bay as their temporary accommodation. Disappointment and anxiety at having to continue the wait before procuring a solid roof over their heads was mitigated by his tactfulness. This section of the coast, he artfully pointed out, boasted an adequate supply of fresh fish and was reasonably sheltered from all but the worst seasonal storms battering the eastern seaboard. More importantly, the inlet was readily defendable if froggy troublemakers came calling. “The only thing lacking is a cave wall to hang your sprat on,” Lasbow had joked, quick to add the remedy for that was in the pipeline.

  Finishing up his tiring day inspecting nightly Seaguard placements after reviewing Fisher activities to make sure catches continued to be doled out evenly to the hungry populace, he hooked up with Ahlegra around dinnertime when darkness began seeping into the bay. She was typically found with her mother. They had grown inseparable these past few days, connected by planning the bridal ceremony in the hope of gaining some measure of normality from the upheaval that had turned their seaworld upside down.

  Gliding into the secluded back of the cove reserved for the monarchy, free-floating light-fish lanterns softly illuming royal privacy, the sovereign mermale felt outnumbered by the handmaidens serving the privileged merladies a meal of horseshoe crabs garnished with ribbons of green sea lettuce and reddish-brown strips of dulse.

  Glancing up at her arriving fiancé, Ahlegra's welcome matched the water's coolness as dusk leached away the day's warmth. “Trust you to turn up at suppertime. It seems to be the only time we get to catch up. I missed you this morning. You were up and gone with the seabirds."

  Stung by her aberrantly frosty reception, Lasbow reciprocated with like severity. “I had funeral arrangements to make. Organising a Seaguard detail, not to mention—"

  "Rounding up mourners,” the Merprincess butted in. “What did you bribe them with to convince them to attend?"

  Refusing to be drawn into that quarrel, Lasbow quietly joined the supping merwomen on the seafloor. He gestured curtly for the closest serving mergirl to bring him food and she scurried to dish him up a platter. All the while the Merking and Merprincess glowered churlishly at each other.

  The inexplicable tension between the couple was so great you could have cut the water with a knife-fish, so Minoh interposed. “This morning's service was lovely and sensitive, King Lasbow,” she complemented him. “I do believe you are improving at conducting funerals."

  "It's an upsetting duty I don't particularly want to excel at,” Lasbow remarked, sadness glooming his handsome face.

  He accepted the assorted morsels, pinned to the crab shell bowl with fish spines to prevent them floating away, without even a polite thank you. Haphazardly spearing a fist-sized chunk of white meat with his whalebone fork, still unused to the royal privilege of eating with exquisitely carved utensils, Lasbow irately chewed his mouthful.

  The royals looked set to dine in terse silence when Minoh struck up another conversation with her impending son-on-law. “Do tell us about Atlantis, dear boy. Are there any promising spots for my delightful coral gardens?"

  Swallowing loudly, Lasbow relayed, “You may have to settle for plainer garden settings, Queen Minoh. Local coral varieties seem limited to white sea fans. The base of the stack lies in water deeper, darker, and colder than we're used to dwelling in, so we'll have some adjusting to do. It's roomier than the Rock, with a great deal more grottos. We've a substantial cleanup ahead of us to make it liveable, but it holds promise. There's fish aplenty, plus a bed of giant mussels nearby ripe for harvesting."

  Cracking open a hard-bodied crab's softer underside, Minoh utilised a spoon to scoop out the salty flesh and deftly slurped the distinctly flavoured delicacy down whole. The horseshoes” were the leftovers from an unexpected windfall. Every year, regular as clockwork, thousands of the living fossils emerged from the sea, surging ashore with the incoming tide to breed on the coastal sandbanks. Making landfall first, the waiting males went into a sexual frenzy as soon as the arriving females began laying hundreds of eggs in the damp sands uncovered by the ebbing tide, each fighting to pair up and discharge his fertilising milt over his mate's spawn. Delaware Bay remained a favourite spot for these crab orgies and the stragglers made for easy pickings. Not only the Cetari benefited from this annual bounty. Migrating wading birds, following the traditional flyway to Arctic nesting sites, swooped down and cashed in on the caviar buried shallowly in the sands. Hungry flocks of visiting turnstones vied ardently with local sandpipers for a share of the natural aviation fuel.

  "Big shellfish, you say?” mused Minoh. “Oysters possess aphrodisiacal properties to boost the sex drive. Imagine the enhancements a giant version might bestow!"

  "That is inappropriate talk over dinner, Mother,” carped Ahlegra.

  The Merqueen took the censure in her stroke. “Quite where you get this priggish steak of yours is beyond me. You must've inherited it from your father's side of the family. Mine happily embrace sexuality.” Noting her daughter nibbling daintily on a strand of stringy seamoss, she tittered. “There may be hope for you yet, Ahlegra. That strain of seaweed is a potent aphrodisiac itself."

  The Merprincess delicately spat out the offending foodstuff.

  Reaching for another crustacean from the stash weighted down and neatly piled on the rocky seabed at her tail, Minoh made the passing observation, “The pair of you do make the cutest couple. You ought to start thinking about making babies, assuming you haven't already tried."

  "Mother!"

  Like so many tribal cultures, intimacy for the Cetari was not the taboo subject civilised peoples made it. For them, sex proved more than just an enjoyable pastime pursued with the same passion shown when hunting a favourite fish species. Personal trysts not only coupled the embracing lovers in question, their lovemaking helped to bind the community as a whole, fostering group closeness. How unusual then those customs dictate an affianced couple remain chaste from the time they announce their betrothal to the day they wedded. No wonder Cetari engagements were stupendously short! Royals were no less exempt from that practice. Each night Ahlegra slept apart from Lasbow, screened from her intended by a wall of Seaguard killjoys ensuring their Merprincess saved herself for the nuptials. For the Merqueen to imply that her daughter might be breaking with convention affronted Ahlegra.

  "You must admit, our newest Merking has always been a handsome devilfish,” Minoh continued, oblivious to Ahlegra squirming with discomfort. “Nobody would blame you two for getting intimate before the marriage. Were it not for his infatuation with you, I'd be tempted myself to go for a roll in the spray with him."

  Lasbow nearly choked on the fishbone toothpick he was using. Minoh's days spent in the cove had certainly rejuvenated her irrepressible nature.

  Impishly enjoying the couple's discomposure, she clapped the coughing Merking heartily on the back and affected a sigh of disconsolation. “I guess I'll just have to settle for having him as my son-in-law."

  Recovering his poise, Lasbow informed the smirking Merqueen, “Rest assured, Minoh, I have not sullied the princess's reputation."

  "That's right,” Ahlegra affirmed. “Lasbow's been nothing but a perfect gentle-merman."

  Minoh pouted. “I'm disappointed to hear that. I trust you'll make up for it on your wedding night. I fancy becoming a youthful grandmother."

  Folding her arms, Ahlegra glowered crossly at her dam. “You're incorrigible."

  "But earnest,” her queenly mother said, her hand lingering on Lasbow's broad shoulder blade. “Infants fill hearts with joy, and lord knows we could all use cheering up after we've settled into our new home. What better way to put this horrid business firmly behind us than with a bevy of happy calves."
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  "Fresh life to usher in a fresh start,” Lasbow commented, echoing her sentiment.

  "That's the spirit! I'm banking you're as virile as you look, darling Lasbow. I want to be a grandmother many times over."

  "I'm sure I can rise to the challenge,” Lasbow quipped uncouthly.

  Ahlegra blushed furiously, undecided at which of the two conspirators she was most mad at.

  Deciding it might be prudent to go for an evening cruise before retiring for the night, Minoh excused herself. “You two could do with some time alone together. Use it wisely.” Taking in Ahlegra's stormy face, the regal merwoman could not help herself and said in parting, “Arguments have their upside. If you have a mind to indulge yourselves, the makeup sex is positively delightful."

  Lasbow watched the Merqueen's handmaidens gravitate to their smiling mistress like fish swarming around bait and trail her to the spot on the seabed near the front of the cove where the remaining Seaguard bedded down. Her idea of a nightcap was to flirt with a few hunky protectors before turning in.

  "Do you think you mother will eventually remarry?” he abruptly asked his betrothed.

  "I doubt there's a merman her equal,” Ahlegra coldly said. “Are you thinking of playing matchmaker?"

  Shrugging, Lasbow replied, “Not especially. When it comes to affairs of the heart, I'm out of my depth. I just think everyone deserves a chance for real happiness.” Staring openly at the Merprincess in the failing light, it seemed her grimace was darkening the dusky water. “Why aren't you happy with me, my love?"

  She gazed unflinchingly back at Lasbow, deciding whether to give him the cold shoulder. “You left this morning without so much as a goodbye,” she sulkily deigned to click.

  "I told you. I was conducting official Merking business."

  "Such as organising your return to Atlantis with a larger scouting party."

  "Among other things,” he admitted. “Is that what this silly mood of yours is all about?"

  "I don't consider worrying about your welfare as being silly."

  "There's no need for you to worry. As you can plainly see, I never went."