The Merman's Mark

by Tara Omar

  “Are these merish?” asked David. He pulled out the other shirt and pants and showed it to Jia Li.

  “No,” said Jia Li. David rummaged through the sack but found no other clothing, though everything was there that he remembered. The boat ticket, the bottle of poison and the dagger were all as he had left them, with the exception of the sack of gold.

  “It doesn’t look like I have anything else,” said David, looking down at his sack. “What would you suggest?”

  “For a set of merish clothing, I suggest you pay with a diamond,” said Jia Li, holding out her hand.

  “Do you have any merish clothing?” asked David.

  “Back when smuggling was a roaring trade, a mer would occasionally leave something behind. I think I may have a few of their old things left,” said Jia Li.

  “And if I don’t pay?” asked David.

  “Then you go naked.”

  David glared at her as he again opened the compact and handed her a fifth diamond. Jia Li pocketed the stone and opened a creaky, wooden chest near the railing around Hiram’s workshop.

  “Let’s see what I have,” said Jia Li as she dug through the chest. After a minute or so of rummaging, Jia Li pulled out a skimpy brief with short strands of pearls hanging down and a large jewel at the centre. It looked like some sort of merish stripper costume.

  “Here. You can wear this,” said Jia Li, throwing the bejewelled brief toward David.

  “Um, I don’t mean to be choosy, but you wouldn’t perhaps have something that offers a bit more coverage?” asked David, frowning at the brief. The material was barely more than a handkerchief.

  “No, and I don’t accept returns,” said Jia Li, slamming the lid to the chest.

  “I’ll just change, then,” said David.

  David disappeared behind a curtain in the corner; Jia Li opened the trunk again and dug through the items.

  “Why in the world would a mer ever want to wear this, in public?” asked David as he changed behind the curtain.

  “I don’t ask personal questions,” said Jia Li. She pulled out a frilly seashell purse from the chest and closed the lid again.

  “Well?” asked David. He came out from behind the curtain, wearing the skimpy brief and his human shirt open like a robe. Jia Li shrugged.

  “Here, you can take this for your things since you’re paying with diamonds,” said Jia Li, holding the purse out to him. “It’s airtight with a weight on the bottom, so the purse will hang properly in the sea and your things will stay dry.”

  “Thanks,” said David, frowning at the frills. He emptied his canvas sack onto the floor and placed the poisoned dagger and bottle inside the purse. Hiram watched him from the window.

  “Ha… Ha!” shouted Hiram. His voice rose as though he had just touched something hot.

  “What is it, Hiram?” asked Jia Li.

  “Od of bo,” said Hiram, coming toward David. Hiram picked up the blue amber from among the pile of clothes.

  “It. It is an od of bo,” said Hiram, holding the amber toward the window. The stone glowed liked honey as the light shone through it.

  “A what?” asked David.

  “An od of bo. It do op uh… go. It do go,” said Hiram. He hurried to his workstation with the piece of blue amber, grabbing a filing tool and a small screw on his way.

  David looked to Jia Li, but she shrugged. In a moment Hiram returned from his workstation holding a beautifully-cut oval pendant of blue amber, attached to a cord with a metal clasp.

  “Od of bo, fo yo,” said Hiram, smiling.

  “Thanks, Hiram,” said David, clasping the pendant around his neck. As he fastened it in place, a hasty knock sounded on the door.

  “Hello? Hello? Jia Li, you in there?” asked a voice.

  Jia Li spun around.

  “Who did you speak to?” asked Jia Li.

  “Sorry?” asked David.

  “When you came here, who did you speak to?”

  “No one,” said David.

  Jia Li glared at him.

  “I’m serious. I, uh, asked directions from a hairdresser, but that was all.”

  “You spoke to Delia?” asked Jia Li.

  “Maybe. I think that was the name on the board,” said David.

  “Biy’avi. Of all people to ask direction, you had to choose the neighbourhood’s worst whistle-blowing snoop,” said Jia Li, rubbing her eyebrows.

  “Would you please open for me? I have a warrant,” said the voice again.

  “Into the koi pond,” said Jia Li.

  “Pardon?” asked David.

  “You are a mer, aren’t you? Into the koi pond. There’s a rock at the bottom you can use as a hide. The fish will show you,” said Jia Li.

  David put one foot into the koi pond at the centre of the room. As his toe touched the water an icy chill shot up his leg.

  “Ah, it’s cold,” said David, pulling back.

  “Jia Li, I have a warrant,” said the voice from behind the door. “It’s for your own safety.”

  Jia Li gave David a hard push, knocking him into the koi pond.

  “Coming now,” called Jia Li. She threw David’s canvas sack and clothes into the fire and hid the seashell purse under the armchair as she walked toward the door. Hiram followed behind her, while the koi pointed with their fins to a shadowy cavern off the side of the pond. David swam into the tiny cave and pulled the nearby rock over himself. Jia Li opened the front door.

  “May I help you?” asked Jia Li. An Ibex officer with a thin scar across his cheek was standing at the gate with eight more guards behind him. Jia Li’s heart jumped to her throat. She knew this guard from papers as Wilhelm Schmidt, the most controversial guard in Ibex, with more than one violation against human rights. He maintained his status as officer solely because of his results; the City had almost no crime since he came on board. He was the reason the gangs and drug lords had fled the City to the Outlands, beyond his usual jurisdiction. The fact that he had come all the way from the City and was now standing on her stoop meant very bad news indeed.

  C H A P T E R 3 9

  “Anything new in the news?” asked Norbert, looking up from his knitting. He was sitting on the couch in the Gilly Pad, working on a whimsy-looking scarf.

  “Eh, the usual,” said Gill, from behind his Rosy Herald. “Nothing about my party, I’m sad to say. It’s all wedding, wedding, wedding.”

  Norbert nodded and went back to his knitting.

  “Oh, here’s something,” said Gill, folding the paper in half. “Looks like someone stole forty-six million from the Temple treasury. They haven’t found any leads yet.”

  “How’d that happen?” asked Norbert.

  “Beats me,” said Gill. “They suspect it was an inside job.”

  “Anything to detract the Temple these days,” said Norbert, shaking his head.

  “Mhm, though I must say the critics have calmed a bit since the Lady’s been more friendly to Gabe. It’s not even front page,” said Gill. “I wonder what happened for the change of heart.”

  Moai waddled up to them with a tray of tea and chocolate chip cookies. Gill set down his paper and reached for his cup, banging it against the teapot as a roach scurried past his saucer.

  “Ah, Norbert, what did I tell you about letting those things loose in here? It’s bad enough I have to keep your beasties canned in my fridge.”

  “Oh stop your neighbourish niggy-nagging, Gill; it’s unseemly,” said Norbert, setting down his knitting. Stew crawled up Norbert’s leg and dumped a yellow capsule atop the scarf in Norbert’s lap. Moai looked at the pill in Norbert’s scarf.

  “That one of the Gabe-mahn’s new headache tablets. He left the party with very bad headache.”

  “New?” asked Norbert. “As in never-been-seen-before, not-on-the-market-yet new?”

&nbs
p; “I think so, yah,” said Moai.

  “Righty-o,” said Norbert, folding the scarf over the pill. “I’ll be back now.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Gill.

  “I’m going to run it through Purples—see what she says.”

  “Don’t take too long or your tea will get cold,” said Gill.

  He shook his head and went back to reading. Norbert scampered through the maze of potted plants toward his house. He pressed a button on the side of his computer and the wilted cabbage spun to life.

  “Alright, Purples, let’s see what this Gabey-Gabe has been up to,” said Norbert, tossing the yellow pill into its centre. The computer beeped and displayed a reading. Norbert gasped.

  “Purples, are you sure?” he asked.

  He typed some codes into the computer and ran the test again. He got the same result.

  “This is bad,” said Norbert, springing up from his chair. “This is very, very bad.”

  Norbert swiped a printout of the results and sprinted back toward Gill’s house, nearly knocking over the fig tree in the toilet as he ran. He burst through Gill’s front door, panting.

  “Biy’avi, what’s wrong?” asked Gill, setting down his newspaper.

  “Moai, did you see Gabe take one of those tablets?” asked Norbert.

  “Yah,” said Moai.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yah.”

  “Are you shursie sure, as in you’d-bet-your-apricots sure?” asked Norbert, his eyes wild.

  “Yah, mahn. He took a tablet,” said Moai. Norbert’s face twisted into a puffed grimace, like a volcano ready to erupt.

  “What’s wrong, Norbert?” asked Gill.

  “Gabe… how is he?”

  “Fine, I think.”

  Norbert grabbed Gill by the shoulders.

  “He’s not sick, nauseous, even the slightest bit queasy?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Gill, pulling back. “What’s wrong?”

  Norbert paced around the Gilly Pad with his forehead wrinkled as though he were solving a complicated math problem. Moai frowned at Gill.

  “Would you like me to mail Gabe to see how he is?” asked Gill.

  “Quickly, please. It’s a matter of life and death,” said Norbert.

  “Alright,” said Gill. “Moai, would you mind getting me Gabe’s address?” Gill pulled a chrome pen from his breast pocket and clicked its top. As the pen clicked open, an invisible door also opened in the wall next to Moai, revealing a closet-like room with two marble sinks, each with its own tap. Moai waddled back to the couch with a smooth, stone tablet from the sink and a fat address book under his arm. He handed the tablet to Gill, who scribbled a note on the stone with his chrome pen. Norbert looked over Gill’s shoulder as he wrote.

  “Don’t shilly-shally with the document, Gill. This dispatchio is urgent,” said Norbert, frowning.

  “I’m just writing the proper pleasantries. Anything specific you want to ask, or is this a general enquiry about his health?”

  “Just want to know what happened after his headache, like if he, say, died or anything,” said Norbert, “though maybe don’t mention the dying.”

  “Okay,” said Gill, writing a few more lines. “How does that look?”

  “Good,” said Norbert.

  Moai handed him the open address book.

  “Thanks Moai,” said Gill. He set the tablet in the sink and looked at the address, typing Gabe’s numbers into a keypad on the wall as he read them. When the numbers were correct, Gill turned the tap above the sink, sending water pouring over his note. The water washed the tablet clean, sending the ink down the drain and into the plumbing, en route to Gabe’s aquaroom.

  “Well?” asked Norbert.

  “Hang on. I just sent it,” said Gill. “It hasn’t even reached him yet.”

  Norbert wiped his forehead. He was breaking into a cold sweat.

  “Biya man, are you okay?” asked Gill, frowning. “What did Purples say that has you so distressed?”

  “Nothing,” said Norbert, stiffening.

  “‘Nothing’ as in you don’t want to tell me, or ‘nothing’ as in Purples can’t identify the pill?”

  “Yes.”

  “Norbert, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why is it taking so long? Don’t people answer their mail anymore?” asked Norbert.

  “Calm down, Norbert. He may not even be home,” said Gill. Norbert threw his hands up in the air and resumed pacing.

  “What’s the point of mail if nobody answers it?” mumbled Norbert. Just then Gill’s pen began to vibrate and light up, a signal for incoming mail.

  “Oh, here we—”

  Norbert shoved Gill out of the way and turned the tap, watching as inky water flowed onto the etched tablet in the first sink and filled its crevices in the shape of a message.

  “It’s from his secretary,” said Norbert.

  Gill leaned over and read the message.

  Dear Gill,

  Thank you for enquiring about Gabe’s health. I regret that he is unable to answer your message personally, though I am pleased to inform you that Mr Silbi is feeling much better since your party, and is expected to make a full recovery by tomorrow. He would…

  “So he’s fine,” said Gill, looking up.

  “Do you think she’s lying?” asked Norbert.

  “No.”

  “Me neither,” said Norbert.

  “Very good,” said Gill. “So now that that’s settled, let’s—”

  Norbert took off out the door.

  “Norbert… Norbert!” called Gill, running after him. By the time Gill reached him Norbert was already swiping cobwebs off an old-fashioned, yellow cyclapod parked behind his house.

  “What are you doing, Norbert?” asked Gill.

  “I’m leaving the seafront, on a matter of urgent business.”

  “What business?” asked Gill.

  “Let’s see if I still remember how to ride this thing,” said Norbert, buckling his safety belt. Gill frowned.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Gill.

  “I have to, Gill, and don’t you dare try to stop me,” said Norbert.

  “Would you like a lift, then? I can take you in my pteroduck.”

  “Nope, I can do this myself,” said Norbert. “See you now.” He pedalled forward and the rattling cyclapod immediately sunk in the sand. Norbert unbuckled his safety belt and hopped out, grabbing it by the steering wheel as he ran alongside it, down the seafront toward the centre dock. As he reached the dock he hopped inside, beeping a last goodbye as he sped down the road and into the City. Moai walked up next to Gill.

  “I probably should’ve stopped him,” said Gill, staring ahead.

  “Norbert warrior-mahn has touched his nose to too many bad, bad things. He need to sneeze now. You can’t hold in a sneeze,” said Moai.

  Gill watched as Norbert’s figure faded in the distance.

  “Don’t worry, mahn, he just need to sneeze,” said Moai, nodding.

  “I hope you’re right, Moai,” said Gill, “I really hope you’re right.”

  Norbert cycled through the winding roads on the outskirts of the City, past the National Stadium, and down what felt like an infinite stretch on the main road toward the stone stronghold in the distance.

  The Kasbah had changed since he had last stood in front of its doors nearly three hundred years ago. Now the Palace, the rugged fortress had been transformed into an architectural wonder with turrets and domes, pillars and grand archways. It was surrounded by neatly manicured gardens, a fountain, and most noticeably, a large wrought-iron gate. Despite its furnishings Norbert could still make out shadows of the past: the heavy wooden doors had been left, and were now flanked by two statues of lions and several members of Ibex. He swallowed.
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  “May I help you?” asked a guard. He was leaning out a square opening in the stone next to the gate, holding a shutter open.

  “Yes, I would like to see the Lady, please,” said Norbert, walking over.

  “And who may I say is calling?” asked the guard, writing on a smooth tablet. Norbert could see two small sinks behind him.

  “Norbert Bransby,” said Norbert. The guard smirked.

  “Oh, Norbert. How’s Charlie? Is he still chasing butterflies?”

  “Could you hurry please?” said Norbert. “It is of utmost important urgency.”

  “Alright, just a minute,” said the guard. He finished writing and closed the shutters. Norbert glanced around.

  “I’m afraid she can’t see you now; she’s busy in a meeting,” said the guard, opening the shutters again. Norbert frowned.

  “Did you even ask her? You were gone for like two seconds, you were.”

  “Perhaps if you come back tomorrow,” said the guard.

  “But I need to see her now. It’s—”

  “I’m sorry, Mr Bransby, but the Lady cannot be disturbed. It will be better tomorrow.”

  Norbert trembled like a shaken soda bottle.

  “Now look here, I rode this cyclapod the whole day to come see her, I did. I’m right near tired, and I know the Lady will see me if you just speak to her.”

  “Maybe tomorrow, Norbert. Good day.”

  “But—”

  But the guard had already closed the shutters. Norbert knocked, but the guard refused to open.

  “Shitsies,” said Norbert, stamping his foot. “Give a man an edifice, and he thinks himself an idol.” He plopped down on the seat in his open cyclapod, his feet dangling out the side as he looked at the Palace.

  “Let Avi be the judge,” mumbled Norbert. He pulled the printout of Purple’s reading from his pocket and shook his head.

  I must do something. This is big trouble, this is, thought Norbert. He felt a tickle up his spine and down his arm, like he was being brushed with a handful of fine hairs. Two roaches emerged from his sleeve and landed on the dashboard.