The Merman's Mark

by Tara Omar

  “Yes, Your Highness, they are blaming the humans for the famine,” said Tobias. “They want to take over Aeroth.”

  Uriel sighed.

  “First the rich, now the poor; that land is forever to be a foolhardy desire for my people,” said Uriel.

  “I don’t understand this merish obsession with that hunk of desolate rock,” said François, the best dressed of the three. “Life is here.”

  “Yes, well not all citizens in Larimar enjoy the bounty of the Highlands, and the famine is further putting pressure on them. They need opportunities to create wealth, and they think the land will give it to them,” said Tobias.

  “Oh, please. There are plenty of opportunities here; they’re simply not imaginative enough,” said François. “I say their eyes are too big for their stomachs. They have enough.”

  “But for how long?” asked Gerard. “The storerooms will not last forever. If this famine persists, the people will soon go hungry.”

  “I trust we will have corrected the problem by then,” said the King.

  “With all due respect, Your Majesty, what if we haven’t?” asked Gerard.

  “Then I would do well to appoint new advisers, and it will no longer be your concern,” said Uriel.

  “Do you think the humans really are the cause for the recession?” asked Tobias.

  “No, our borders are too well protected, and their bodies cannot handle the pressure of the Abyss. This is a domestic affair,” said Uriel.

  The mers nodded, each lost in thought.

  “Even if the humans aren’t the reason for the famine, why not go to war?” asked Gerard, leaning forward. “We’ve been improving our arms since the first war; surely we could decimate them properly this time. It would mean almost certain victory.”

  “That’s what we said the first time, and we were wrong,” said Tobias.

  “Gerard has a point, Tobias. Sending the Lowveld and Midridge into battle would help a great deal with, uh, population control,” said François.

  “And you expect the Highlands to sit out while we do the dirty work?” asked Gerard.

  “We cannot afford to challenge Silence. The land now occupied by humans was never meant for us,” said Tobias.

  “Was. Perhaps it is now. What do you think, Your Majesty?” asked Gerard.

  “I would not further strain the populace with war unless it’s absolutely necessary. There is still hope of a peaceful solution. We must be patient.”

  “With all due respect, Your Majesty, the people’s restlessness increases by the day. They may not last until we find a solution. And our dead ends only increase their agitation,” said Gerard.

  “We mustn’t forget the terms of the treaty. The humans were more than generous, allowing us to return to Larimar and live in peace. They did warn us if we attack again and they are victorious, we will be massacred,” said Tobias.

  Gerard grunted.

  “If they win again,” said Gerard. “They cannot be so lucky twice.”

  “What about a distraction?” asked François. “Kajal is of marrying age. Surely one of my citizens—”

  “No,” said the King.

  The advisers looked at each other.

  “François has a point, Your Highness. A public romance may be enough to pull the subjects right, and she will need to marry soon anyway. Surely we can simply expedite the process?” asked Tobias.

  “My daughter is not—nor will ever be—a distraction,” said Uriel.

  “What do you think, Silver?” asked François.

  “I think this very second, merish fate has lost its traction and fallen in line with your want of distraction,” said Silver.

  “See, even Silver agrees with us,” said François.

  “Ah-ah-ah-ah,” said Silver, waving his finger. “Aggrieve you I shall do wholeheartedly; agree with you, only half so, for your mind is not measuring up.”

  “What?” asked François.

  Silver snapped his fingers. A ball of woolly yarn appeared on the table, along with a pair of long needles that began knitting in mid-air.

  “You, knit a time in the direction of time,” said Silver, rolling the ball of yarn toward Tobias.

  “What?” asked Tobias.

  “Incorrect,” said Silver. He pulled the yarn away from Tobias and rolled it toward Gerard as though he were playing with a yo-yo, while the needles continued knitting from the other end.

  “You, knit a time in the direction of time,” said Silver.

  “Silver, we have no time for your riddles. These are important matters at hand,” said Gerard, ignoring the yarn. Silver turned his head.

  “Oh, you poor baby, is my cleverness clouding your view? Perhaps you should pass the ball.” He yanked the yarn away from Gerard and rolled it toward François.

  “How about you? Can you solve my riddle?” asked Silver. François shook his head.

  “I agree with Gerard, Silver. This is no time for your childish babble,” said François.

  “Why don’t you take a tot, huh? To calm yourself a bit?” asked Silver.

  “Take a tot?” asked François.

  The mers sat silently, caught in an angry stillness broken only by the gentle scuffle of Silver’s conjured knitting needles. The King chuckled.

  “Silver, you impish genius,” said Uriel, “it’s brilliant.”

  “What is, Sire?” asked Tobias.

  “Second in line,” said the King.

  The mers stared at him.

  “A unit of time in the direction of time is a second in line. A unit of time is a second, and time moves in a linear direction. Second in line,” said Uriel.

  “Most excellent, King,” said Silver, clapping his hands. Uriel nodded.

  “I’m sorry to have missed the joke, but I think it’s safe to say we’re still at a loss,” said Tobias.

  Silver huffed.

  “Kajal’s cousin Zahara, she is with child, is she not?” asked Silver.

  “Yes,” said Gerard.

  “And if Kajal does not marry and produce an heir, this said child will be second in line for the throne, will it not?” asked Silver.

  “Yes,” said François.

  “Precisely. Use the royal baby for your distraction,” said the King.

  “François, Zahara lives in your region; do you know where she’s chosen to have the viewing ball for her new child?” asked Gerard.

  “I think with the recent death of her husband and the impending famine she was planning a private affair,” said François.

  “We could give Zahara a royal viewing ball at the Palace instead,” said Tobias.

  “I dare say, what a groundbreaking idea,” said Silver, waving his hand. “Such quick minds at this table, yes?” The needles stopped knitting, dropping a pair of baby booties on the table.

  “I don’t think it will be as effective as a royal romance, but it could work,” said François.

  “It’s worth a try,” said Tobias.

  “Right then,” said the King. “Invite Zahara to the Palace and begin preparations for a royal viewing ball. In the meantime, have the arms department increase production as much as possible without putting a strain on the resources, in case we have need of it.”

  “Very good, Sire,” said François.

  “As you wish, Your Majesty,” said Gerard.

  “Excellent,” said Uriel. “Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I believe my chef will hunt me down with a butter knife if I am late for dinner. We shall meet again soon.”

  “As you wish,” said François.

  “Come along, Silver, I can see you have already brought along your suede dinner jacket, which means Kajal has invited you to dine with us. I trust she has some unpleasant jargon that she hopes you will translate into poetry.”

  “Something like that,”
said Silver.

  “That girl is always up to her tricks; if I’m not careful her grandiose plans may one day be the death of me.”

  “Perhaps,” said Silver, “perhaps.”

  C H A P T E R 4 7

  David lay flat on the floor in the strange, egg-shaped room known as Maude’s, listening for the sound of the gunman. The room was deathly still; David could hear no shuffling feet, no breathing or movement of any kind. He lifted his head from the floor.

  “What the—?” asked David.

  As he raised his head he saw two, oversized, bug-like eyes set above a flamboyant, lobster-looking creature, staring at him from behind a control panel inside a wobbly water bubble. At first it reminded him of a very large centipede, but it had beautiful, feathery fans protruding from either side of its body and adorning the underneath of its tail, so that it almost looked like a cross between a crustacean and a parrot. David could see two fine, black slits open inside its greyish eyes as it focused on David, as though someone had peeped through a vertical blind. The eyes moved independently of one another in quick, mechanical motions as they examined him, like two telescopes atop a well-dressed alien.

  “Are you a shrimp?” asked David, but the shrimp made no movement.

  Are you a shrimp? signed David.

  One of the mandarin fish floated forward, nodding enthusiastically.

  BAM!

  The sound of a rifle fired again. The mandarin fish scurried back to the pile of bubbles where the other fish floated. David looked again at the bizarre, lobster-like creature, which was waving two thin antennae at the mandarin fish in a scolding motion. As David looked closer he noticed a mallet in one of its claws, which the shrimp had hit against a gong near its control panel with enormous force, causing a sound like a rifle. The shrimp shook the mallet in a dramatic fashion, and the mandarin fish scurried about in their bubbles, arranging them in a legible pattern.

  Maude the Mantis Shrimp

  “Oh, so you’re Maude?” asked David, sitting up.

  The shrimp nodded her tiny, telescope eyes.

  “Interesting,” said David. Before he could say more Maude threw her arms and legs into the air in what looked like a complicated dance motion. The mandarin fish immediately rose from their pile and accelerated their bubbles towards the walls. They moved a few buttons on their panels and the walls broke open into a series of pull-out drawers, where several other mandarin fish were already inside sorting through a variety of scissors, fabrics and needles. Using their controllers, they pulled out a ribbon tape measure and began to record his measurements, which flashed on the wall like the departures and arrivals board at airports.

  Are you a fashion designer? signed David.

  Maude nodded as she stared at the board, reading the measurements.

  “I wouldn’t have expected that,” said David. He raised his elbow so that a particularly aggressive mandarin fish could measure his armpit.

  As the fish whizzed around measuring, Maude drove her bubble nearer to David, examining the patterned robe Silver had given him. She pulled on its sleeve and it fell away with a shimmer of light, revealing the gaudy, bejewelled brief underneath. Maude reeled back.

  BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM.

  Maude pounded on the gong, and the fish raced around like lightning, snipping the brief off with a pair of scissors. They wrapped a fluffy towel around David’s waist. Two mandarin fish buried themselves underneath the brief, lifting it up with the top of their bubbles. They flew it toward an open drawer, where two other mandarin fish were already waiting, solemn looking. They dropped it into the drawer; it barely passed the edge before a billowing mushroom cloud exploded upward, incinerating the brief.

  “Thank you for that. I had the same sentiments but less gumption,” said David.

  Maude stared at him.

  Thank you, signed David.

  When the last measurement for the last toe on David’s foot was blinking on the board, Maude floated herself toward a designer tap near the floor and turned it on, expanding her bubble to the size of a bathtub. Several mandarin fish laid a square of fabric near her; she pulled the fabric into her bubble and ran over it. She cut, sewed, folded and creased as she crawled, swinging her many arms like a master artisan. In less than a minute she stepped back and squeezed the excess water from her bubble. A burst of air shot through the floor of the room, drying her masterpiece. When it was all dry and further inspected, the mandarin fish floated the clothing up toward David atop their bubbles, presenting it like a ring on a pillow. David frowned. It looked like a cross between an accordion and a flattened octopus.

  “Is this a shirt?” asked David.

  Maude waved and clicked her antennae, motioning for him to put it on.

  “Okay,” said David, making a face. He picked up the cloth and turned it over in his hands, but try as he might, he could not figure out what he was supposed to do with the fabric. David put it over his back.

  BAM, pounded Maude.

  David winced. He tried hanging it in front like a bib, but she hit the gong again, sending another terrible wave of discomfort through David’s body.

  “Is that really necessary?” asked David, rubbing his ears, but Maude stared, relentless. Again and again he tried to put on the fabric, and each time Maude fired at him with more force; the horrible fusillade rang through his body as though she were pounding his organs with the mallet. Eventually she shook her head and motioned for the mandarin fish to help; they swarmed in, twisting and yanking him as they tied the fabric around him, but apparently they couldn’t tie it fast enough, for Maude hit the gong several more times until the affair became a mess of pulling and pounding.

  “You know what? Just stop. All of you, stop,” said David, batting away the mandarin fish. He turned to Maude and pointed. “And you, you need to cool it, okay?”

  Maude’s eyes jerked and shifted; the black slits opened in their centres as she focused on him, as if demanding an explanation. David shook his head.

  “Ever since I’ve come here people have been telling me what to do, say, wear, think, believe, and you know what? I’m tired of it,” said David, throwing down the piece of cloth. “Is it so much to ask for a little respect? To be treated as an independent adult capable of making my own decisions? I’m like a slave on a leash here and I just…”

  David sighed.

  “I just shouldn’t be baring my soul to a mantis shrimp,” said David, picking up the clothing.

  “So how does this thing go on, anyway?”

  Maude waved her arms and the mandarin fish pulled the cloth away from him, tucking it into a drawer in the wall. Another drawer opened from the opposite end; inside lay two simple, collared shirts, a pullover and a pair of pants. Next to the clothes lay a stylish bag to replace his seashell purse. David looked at the clothes.

  Am I to wear this instead? he signed.

  Maude nodded.

  But there are three shirts here. Does this mean I can choose which one?

  She nodded again. David smiled.

  Thanks, Maude, signed David. He dressed himself and dumped the contents of the purse into his new bag. Two mandarin fish collected the empty shell and carried it to Maude, who inspected it with her antennae.

  “Do you like the purse?” asked David. “Personally I think it’d be better suited for a—”

  Maude gave the seashell purse one heavy blow with her mallet. It shattered into powder.

  “Okay, guess not,” said David, crinkling his eyebrows. “You’re a strong thing, aren’t you? Between the purse and the pounding, I don’t think I’ll be crossing you anytime soon.”

  A knock sounded from outside. Maude and the mandarin fish floated toward the ceiling, forming the blue chandelier just as a handle appeared in the wall. David opened the door to find Kajal waiting for him. She was wearing a pair of tight pants cut above her flared feet and a
lacy top made of jewels. She stared at him.

  “Wow, you look… ready for dinner.”

  “Dinner? I thought you were arresting me,” said David.

  “I was. Do you have somewhere you need to be that you would object to dinner?”

  “Um, no, not actually.”

  “Good. Then I trust you’ll enjoy the company,” said Kajal.

  “What’s this about?” asked David.

  “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” said Kajal, not looking at him. “First you must meet Father.”

  C H A P T E R 4 8

  Kajal opened the door to a room that looked like some sort of modern gallery, with dark walls of blue apatite crystal and a light fixture carved from salt. An elegant table was positioned at the centre; beyond the table David could see a squat figure through an open window, moving around in what appeared to be a well-fitted kitchen. A woman with prying eyes and a pointy nose stood to greet them.

  “Auntie Regina, good evening,” said Kajal.

  “Darling, how are you? It’s been almost a week, Kajal. Where have you been?” asked Regina, kissing her niece. “And the handsome mer you’ve brought with you, who is he?”

  “This is David Michelson,” said Kajal.

  “Of?”

  “Scuttlebrook in the Lowveld,” said Kajal.

  “Oh, how very unexpected. Um, do sit down,” said Regina, forcing a smile. She turned toward the door where others were arriving.

  “Ah Silver, darling, lovely of you to join us. How are you today?”

  “Interested in the interaction that is to follow,” said Silver, kissing her cheek as he passed.

  “Don’t look so cross, David. Your eyes are poisoned daggers,” whispered Silver. He kissed David’s cheek and stood near an opposite chair, just as Uriel entered the room.

  “And brother? Did you have a good polo match today?” asked Regina, kissing Uriel.

  “The best,” said Uriel, “especially now that it ends with a visit from my daughter. Where have you been, Kajal?”

  “Oh do tell, Kajal, the King has been abysmal in your absence. Surely he deserves an explanation,” said Silver.