The Merman's Mark

by Tara Omar

  “Kajal, you know I don’t interfere,” said Silver.

  “Please just be there. You don’t have to say anything. Father acts much more nicely when you’re there. I promise to bring you more dyes for your sand.”

  “Crimson?” he asked.

  “Violet and crimson,” said Kajal.

  “You know the way to a jinn’s heart,” said Silver.

  Kajal smiled.

  “Excellent. I shall see you at supper then. Look after him for me, and… take him to Maude.”

  “Ah, so you are thinking of mers now,” said Silver.

  “Only insofar as they can mend the matters,” said Kajal. She blew him a kiss and sprinted down the bridge toward the double doors. Silver bent down and cut the coral binding ropes. David jolted.

  “Calm yourself,” said Silver. He handed David a patterned, satin robe.

  “Where am I?” asked David, as he put his arm into a sleeve.

  “You do read, do you not?” asked Silver.

  “Yes, of course,” said David.

  “Well?”

  Silver pointed to a stack of plastic-covered books near the doors. David picked one up and read.

  Hymns of Praise

  He opened the cover, where a notice had been stamped in turquoise ink.

  Property of the High Temple at the Nephil Palace

  Silver Fitzwilliam, Jinn, presiding

  “I don’t understand,” said David.

  “It’s quite simple, really,” said Silver. “You see, that stamp means that book belongs—”

  “No, I mean I don’t understand why I’m in a temple. I thought I was being arrested.”

  “Arrested? For what?” asked Silver. His voice was an oil slick, creeping toward David with an air of sly mischief. The hair on the back of David’s neck stood up. David locked his teeth.

  “Hmm… It is wise for you to defer to Silence in your position,” said Silver. “Only you and I know for what purpose she should be arresting you. It was so kind of her to shield you from the Abyss, was it not? You were rather out of sorts when you realised you are very, very far from home. Indulge me though, who is she that arrested you?”

  “I don’t know,” said David.

  Silver danced around the centre curtain like an imp.

  “Oh come now, do play this little game with me. Did you not hear us speaking? Who is she that arrested you? You must have heard something.”

  David shook his head.

  “This will be a very uncomfortable visit if you choose not to speak with me,” said Silver. “Now do tell, what did you hear?”

  David huffed.

  “I heard you rambling on about mers and matters and matters of mers, and I don’t know what else.”

  “Excellent, excellent, most-most excellent. Did the ‘else’ include any names, per chance? Think now,” coaxed Silver.

  “I don’t know. Karina. Kajal. Silver.”

  “Most perceptive. Mers usually are when they fear for their livelihoods. I must say you would be royally stupid not to figure out to whom those names belong, though. Any guesses?”

  “Why am I even having this conversation when none of this can possibly be real?”

  “Real?” asked Silver. “Do you have any reason to doubt it?”

  David looked away.

  “Ah, you had a dream,” said Silver. “Would you doubt your existence because of a dream?”

  “It was a memory,” said David. “The first real memory I’ve had since I…”

  “…woke up? Where did you wake up, David?” asked Silver.

  “Never mind,” said David.

  “Ha, I believe you mean ‘never mine,’” said Silver, circling him. “For mining the mind is what I do, and if you mind what I mine, you should mind your own mind so there’s nothing to mine and claim as mine. Now please, do take a guess.”

  David thought back to his reading at Raphael’s house, trying to remember any references to the High Temple or the Nephil Palace. After a moment he looked up.

  “Is she the Princess?” asked David.

  “She is Karina Kajalesca Elena Nephtali, Crown Princess of Larimar in the Lower Realms. Very perceptive indeed.”

  “What would the Princess be doing with me?” asked David.

  “I believe her father will have the same question. Only time will tell,” said Silver. “Her father is Uriel, after all. You’ve heard of him, haven’t you? Yes, of course you have. How could you have not?”

  “While we’re on introductions, I take it you must be Silver, the jinn,” said David, pointing with the book. Silver smiled.

  “You are correct, Sir. I am Silver, the jinn. I am a holy man of sorts, in the service of the crown.”

  He offered a low bow.

  “Yes, now that you mention it, I remember reading about you in the Illumen Chronicles. The jinn are supposed to be omniscient, mer-like creatures made of sea foam, often called the conjurers. Unlike ordinary mers, you can create images and illusions as well as spin filament, but there aren’t many around, are there?”

  “Very good. Oh, you are a bright spark, aren’t you?” said Silver, waving his fingers, “and very well-read for someone from Scuttlebrook.” As he moved his hands David noticed Silver’s thumb and middle fingers also had unusual markings, similar to merish wrists. He nodded.

  “How many are you?” asked David.

  “How many do you know of?” asked Silver.

  “Well, one, I guess.”

  “Then I am the one and only.”

  “What do you mean, ‘then’? Don’t you know?” asked David.

  “To only tell what is already known—that is the mode of my method.”

  “Only what is already known?”

  “Yes. If you cannot deduce an idea on your own, then that idea I shall neither implant nor induce. The mind must do its own labouring.”

  “Then how does anyone know you’re omniscient, if you never answer any new questions?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?” asked Silver.

  David glared at him.

  “You can’t possibly be omniscient,” said David.

  “I am in context,” said Silver. He jumped atop one of the stone tables and held out his arms.

  “Like a shining moon in a languid night, I am awe-inspiring, am I not?”

  “I would have chosen vain,” said David.

  Silver jumped from his perch and delivered a hard smack across David’s cheek, sending him reeling backward.

  “Wake up, son. In the lower realm you are indeed on the low ground; it is unwise to be arrogant. I see a path ahead of you fraught with frivolity. If you fritter or frolic, you will end in a frightful fray worse than any which you have yet experienced. Even the very ground you cling to will not be so.”

  Silver snapped his fingers and turned up his palms. As he moved David noticed that the rocks among the crushed shells were breathing. They rose from the water with their triangular fins extended perpendicular to their fishy bodies, like demonic cherubs. They encircled David.

  “Stonefish,” said David.

  “Aye, stonefish,” said Silver, “the most venomous fish in the sea. You do have some sense, at least.”

  Silver waved his fingers and the stonefish retreated, settling back in their places among the shells. He looked at David, his eyes playful and dangerous.

  “This is a different world, David Michelson. You must proceed with caution, though I am not the first mer to tell you so.”

  “No, you are not,” said David.

  “Interesting stone you have there,” said Silver, noting the pendant of blue amber peeking out from behind the robe. “Very interesting, indeed. Shall we go?”

  Silver spun on his heels and headed toward the door. David rubbed his neck.

  “Silver, what am I doing
here? You must know,” said David.

  “If I know, then you do also, and if that is the case it is redundant to ask. Now follow me, and don’t forget your purse.”

  Silver pushed through the double doors. A pyramid sat in a glass room like a conservatory, which housed an unusual platinum rock garden. Fine, white glitter was raked into patterns around the stones; it barely stirred as Silver walked but rose in clouds as David followed along the stepping stones, coating his legs.

  “So if only you and I know of my journey, why did the Princess arrest me for plotting against the royal house?” asked David, shaking his feet.

  Silver stopped.

  “How do you know that?” asked Silver.

  “What?”

  “That only you and I know?”

  “You told me so. Just now,” said David. Silver frowned.

  “Hmm. You could have guessed as much with your current knowledge. In response to your question, you’ll have to ask the Princess. It’s not for me to say.”

  “Of course it’s not,” said David.

  “Shall we take the tube?”

  David paused. They had stopped at the end of the path in front of what looked like a pair of elevator doors.

  He pointed to a shiny plaque next to them.

  Tansa Tubes: Inter-Palatial Transport

  Below the plaque were rows of shiny, round buttons with names etched above them. Silver pressed the button labelled Maude and waited. In a minute the doors opened, revealing a dim cove with a bubbling fountain on the floor. A metal bar hung above it, halfway from the ground. It looked like the start of a water slide.

  “Well go on,” said Silver impatiently.

  David looked inside. An image of a faceless mer swinging himself forward had been pasted at the back of the fountain. David grabbed the bar and flung himself into the water, imitating the guide image. As he dropped into the fountain the watery jets increased, sending David careening through the cold waters of a long, twisted tube slide. David barely noticed his neck split open and his feet turn to fins as he raced through the tunnels with the speed of a luge rider. He strained his neck forward as he tried to see ahead of him, grimacing as he noticed an exceptionally drastic drop a few seconds away. But he never felt the plummet; a flap in the tunnel closed, forcing him toward the left. In another moment he dropped onto a grill and was blasted by gusts of air; before David knew what was happening a light went on, and the elevator doors opened. David stepped out, looking exactly as he had entered. The doors closed behind him, above which flashed a leader board.

  Palace Guest, 26,8 seconds, 694th Place

  “Not bad,” said Silver as he stepped from behind the doors. “Of course you have a long way to go to top my score. I hold the top three spaces on every route. Slippery ass, you know.” Silver smacked his butt.

  “Right,” said David. He looked toward the door directly across from the elevator, above which hung a polished sign.

  Chez Madame Maude

  “So who’s Maude?” asked David.

  “Do you always ask questions for which you could shortly or easily attain the answers? That is rather lazy, is it not?”

  “About as lazy as returning questions with questions,” said David.

  Silver pounced toward him, stopping a centimetre away from David’s face. The bubbled veins on his neck bulged like binding ropes. David swallowed.

  “If you do not want to speak to me, then don’t,” said Silver. He smiled and pressed a button on the tube.

  “Best of luck,” he said.

  “Silver?” asked David.

  But the jinn had already disappeared into the watery jets toward another corner of the Palace.

  “Well, that was interesting,” said David. He rang the doorbell in front of Maude’s place and entered; the door opened and shut behind him without so much as a whisper of noise. David looked around. He stood alone inside a glossy, egg-shaped room with no windows and seemingly no doors; its only notable feature was a glowing, blue chandelier at the room’s centre that looked like it was made of bubbles of water. As David turned he couldn’t even tell where he had entered from, and no one seemed to be with him. He frowned.

  “So Maude, where are you?” asked David.

  He stared at the small, bowl-like cavities that dotted the walls, wondering if the bizarre design was hiding door handles or perhaps a peep hole. He moved closer to inspect the wall; as he brushed his finger across the wall he noticed the bubbles in the chandelier were no longer in their proper place by the ceiling but floating behind him. David turned.

  “Oh, hello,” said David.

  He gaped at the veined, frog-like face of a brightly-coloured mandarin fish, which was pressing down a joystick on a small consul from inside one of the moving chandelier bubbles. As David looked around he noticed each bubble had its own mandarin fish floating inside it, each a burst of colour like a live, abstract painting. The fish were all moving their joysticks, driving their respective bubbles nearer to David’s face, presumably to get a better look. David smiled.

  “Well that’s—”

  BAM!

  David hit the ground out of pure instinct as adrenaline shot to his head, tense and calculating. He had enough experience to know that was the sound of gunshot. Someone had just fired at him.

  C H A P T E R 4 6

  Silver smiled to himself as he passed over a painted footbridge connecting the Palace grounds to the Okavango Polo Club. It had been a long time since he had had such a fun day, and he anticipated more excitement in the hours ahead. A carved sign welcomed him from behind a waterfall and sprawling flower bed; Silver snapped his fingers and conjured a few miniature dolphins near the waterfall. The dolphins frolicked in the water with the same, light-hearted step as Silver’s gait, while a friendly-looking guard watched him in the distance. The guard tipped his hat.

  “Welcome to the Okavango, Sir,” said the guard. “The day’s match is finishing at the main pool. They’ve just started the fourth chukka.”

  “Thank you,” said Silver. He strolled up the cobbled lane and through the stylish clubhouse toward the pools, winking at the freckled receptionist behind the polished front desk. A small crowd had gathered on the veranda; they were watching what looked like a fierce storm raging in the pool below. Eight mers surged through the water on the backs of pink river dolphins, chasing a yellow-green ball that one of them had just hit toward the goal line. A mer with curly, red hair rode in the lead. He was nearing the ball when one of the chasing mers dived deep into the pool and surfaced right alongside him. Their bridled dolphins swam head to head as the second mer thrust his mallet forward, hitting the ball back behind him. Another chasing player caught it with his mallet and hit it into the opposite goal. The crowd watching from the veranda cheered, while the mer that had chased the ball raised his fist and circled the pool, celebrating the final goal. It was Uriel, king of the mers.

  “A most excellent shot. I don’t think your opponent was expecting it,” said Silver as Uriel rode toward him.

  “Thank you, Silver. I dare say he wasn’t,” said Uriel as he dismounted the dolphin, “though I think the praise is owed more to Boto here than myself. He rode beautifully today.” Uriel patted the dolphin’s nose before handing the reins to a nearby groom.

  “You are looking very buoyant today,” said Silver.

  “It was a very good match,” said Uriel as he climbed out of the pool. He wiped his hands on a towel and took a seat at a round, marbled table under a striped umbrella, motioning for Silver to do the same.

  “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to as of late?”

  “Oh, nothing of consequence,” said Silver, sitting down. “I had a feeling you may have need of me.”

  “Need of you? Are my advisers coming?” asked Uriel.

  “Possibly,” sa
id Silver.

  “Hmm, they probably have news of the seabed. I hope it is good, at least,” said Uriel.

  “Pleasantries from the peasantry when so many pantries need appeasing? Oh, let’s do hope.”

  “François is hardly peasantry, Silver. He has more wealth in one of his pitiful pantries than you could conjure up in a lifetime, as do most of his citizens,” said Uriel. “You may be right about the Lowveld and Midridge people, though. They are forever complaining.”

  “I guess when it comes to pity, less means more,” said Silver, turning in his seat. “Oh, look, here come the vying sirs now: Gerard Bundt of the Lowveld, Tobias Skit of the Midridge, and François Thoreau of the Highland regions, respectively.”

  Three men made their way toward the table, each slightly better dressed than the last. The breeze brought the powdery smells of their colognes toward the polo pool; it mixed awkwardly with the rugged, sea-smell of the water.

  “I did not know there was a meeting today,” said Uriel, wiping his nose. “What word from the regions?”

  “Your Highness, we thought we should speak to you. Whatever is damaging the seabed has affected the crop yields even more than we anticipated,” said Gerard.

  “How much more?” asked the King.

  “About twenty percent,” said Tobias.

  “Have we discovered the source of the problem yet?”

  “No, Your Majesty, all the research is turning up dead ends,” said Gerard.

  “And the storerooms?” asked the King.

  “They are holding, but not for much longer,” said Tobias.

  “We must be patient. Something will come up,” said the King. “Is that what you want to speak to me about?”

  The men looked at each other. Gerard stepped forward.

  “The plebs are growing restless, Your Majesty,” said Gerard. “They are calling for war.”

  “Please, sit,” said the King.

  The three men took a seat around the marbled table.

  “So the people are calling for war now?” asked Uriel.