by Tara Omar
“What was that?” asked a guard, but Two’s voice filled their earpieces.
“Reinforcements have arrived. Standby; they will be opening the door in three… two…”
The millipedes pulled the blackout cloths off the lights, disappearing into cracks in the wall just as the doors to the throne room swung open. Twenty guards stood armed and ready outside; the first few filed in while Albert, Stew and Maude slipped out, hanging onto the top of the door frame. They hid themselves in a nearby coral fountain as the rest of the guards marched past. When the coast was clear, Maude scurried back toward her house in the Palace, while Albert plastered himself against the wall, changing his skin to the colour and texture of the paint as more guards passed. When they had gone, Albert peeled himself from the wall and headed outside. He and Stew hurried over a painted footbridge and down a cobbled lane until they reached a carved sign between a waterfall and sprawling flowerbed, the entrance to the Okavango Polo Club. Albert crawled behind the sign and toward a flowering oleander shrub, where David was crouched with Hongi.
“Albert, are you alright? Did everyone make it out okay?” asked David, looking up.
Albert nodded.
“Did you manage?” asked David.
Albert handed him the backpack. David peeked inside. There he saw a trembling, greyish-black band wrapped around a piece of whale meat.
“You guys are awesome. Thank you,” said David. He slid the band onto his wrist; the tardigrades fused to his skin like a string of tiny suction cups.
“I’m going to miss you a lot, you know. Take care of Natalie for me,” said David, hugging Albert. “Stew, are you coming?”
The roach shook his head, pointing instead to Albert. David smiled.
“I’m sure Norbert will understand,” said David. Hongi peered out from behind the pink flowers of the oleander bush.
“Hongi don’t mean to stop the nice bye-bye, but Tatu need to go now-now. The guards might be coming now.”
“No, you’re right,” said David. “You guys better hurry home before you get into trouble. I’ll see you soon.” He gave Albert and Stew one last hug before they disappeared into the brush. Hongi jumped onto David’s back as he ducked out from behind the bush, checking if the coast was clear. The front guard at the Okavango was distracted; when he was looking the other way, David pulled a life-sized replica of a bottlenose dolphin from another bush behind the sign. He broke out into a full sprint with the dolphin in hand, making it past the clubhouse and down the narrow bridge along a stream leading to the stables. He stopped in front of the stable doors.
“Well, Hongi, this is it,” said David. “Are you ready to see Moai?”
“One minute,” said Hongi. She picked a bright red hibiscus from a bush near the entrance and put it behind her ear.
“Now Hongi ready.”
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Two rows of cubicle-like pools flanked a wooden foot bridge; each pool had a name plaque on its front and a dolphin inside. As David entered the dolphins clicked and stuck their noses up, each trying to get a better look at the visitors. David dislocated the jaw of the dolphin replica and stepped into its mouth, pulling the suit up over his body. He stretched out his arms and grabbed onto the handles inside the dolphin head, which he would use to steer. Hongi was still on his back inside the dolphin, just under the dorsal fin. When everything was in place David arched his back and fell into the empty pool, while the King’s polo dolphins waved and crossed their fins in a sort of applauding motion, clearly impressed with his dive. David reached through the dolphin’s mouth and attached a plaque to the outside of his pool before sinking under the water, lying in wait.
All David could do now was hope he wouldn’t get caught.
C H A P T E R 7 7
Uriel burst through the doors of the throne room, his eyes wild. The air inside was already humming with tension; along the walls a guard stood at the ready every metre around the perimeter, while teams of forensic experts combed the room, categorising blades and dusting for prints. A tangled mess of solid filament hung between the columns like a maze of pipework; the guards had shot it to catch the culprit, but to no effect. Several guards were now hacking it down in pieces, while more forensic experts dusted the pipes for prints. Uriel called Two and Zero-Four, who were talking in low voices near the throne.
“What happened?” asked Uriel, his voice threatening.
“We don’t know, Sir,” said Two.
“I’m not a believing mer by nature, but there’s definitely a ghost in this throne room,” said Zero-Four, “an evil spirit, by the looks of it.”
Uriel looked at Two.
“Everything was going as normal…”
“Completely normal,” said Zero-Four.
“When suddenly Zero-Four reports that all the lights had gone out…”
“All out. It was pitch dark,” said Zero-Four.
Two glared at his guard.
“Sorry,” said Zero-Four, shrinking back.
“As I was saying, Zero-Four reported that all the lights were out despite the command centre showing everything as normal, so I started checking the system. The next thing I know—”
“Someone started firing at us from the centre of the room,” said Zero-Four, becoming excited. “All my guards reported hits and near misses almost simultaneously as though he could fire from all directions at once. We retreated to our defensive positions and opened fire. Within the next minute the safe was breached.”
“Where are the suspect’s blades?” asked Uriel.
Two and Zero-Four looked at each other and frowned.
“That’s the thing, Sir,” said Two, “there are none.”
Uriel bent down in front of the throne. He turned the starfish and pressed the sand dollar, popping off the front panel under the seat. He turned the dial on the safe to the combination he had set; it opened without a glitch as though it had never been touched. There was nothing inside. Uriel swallowed.
“And after the safe was breached?” asked Uriel.
“Half of us shot the web while Two called for reinforcements. As soon as they opened the doors, the lights went on. It was like no one had been there,” said Zero-Four.
“So we have no sign of forced entry, no blades which were purportedly fired, no fingerprints… and a fully functioning safe with no evidence of a break-in except the absence of its contents?” asked Uriel.
“That is correct, Sir,” said Two.
“And every guard will confirm the same story?” asked Uriel.
“Every guard witnessed the lights going off and being fired at,” said Zero-Four.
“The computer also confirms the story. The motion detectors were first breached from the centre, when the guards reported shots. None of the guards inside moved from their positions before then, and no other mer showed up on the sensor during any of this,” said Two.
Uriel turned away, his face knotted with anger. He stared at a mera who was taking fingerprints on the nearest column; as he looked another feeling began to creep through his veins, hardening them like a poison. It was fear.
Zero-Four and Two stared at him, wide-eyed.
“What would you like us to do, Sir?” asked Zero-Four.
“I don’t know,” said Uriel.
“If I may ask, it might help the guard if we know what we must recover,” said Two.
“Family heirloom,” said Uriel, staring ahead. “But it doesn’t matter; it’s gone now.”
“Yes, but if you could just describe—”
“Get out,” said Uriel, waving his arms. “All of you, out! Guards, mers, everybody.”
“But… we’ll be outside the door,” said Two, lowering his gaze. He and Zero-Four bowed and hurried out, along with the rest of the guards and mers. When the last one was out, the guards sealed the entrance. The heavy doors shut with a punchin
g thud that had a foreboding air of finality to it, like the closing of a casket. Uriel sat on the throne and stared ahead, determined and solemn.
He was coming, Uriel knew, and when he arrived, Uriel would be waiting.
C H A P T E R 7 8
Beneath the warm waters of the sixth stall in the royal stables, David lay with his body half outside his bottlenose dolphin, looking as though he were either being swallowed whole or getting ready for a strange race. A bed of colourful sea plants surrounded him; as David’s gills drew in water, he could taste a certain leafiness deep in his throat, as though his nose had fallen below his chin. Hongi sat near him on a pile of a sea grass with a rock tied around her ankle to keep her down. She was watching the two pink river dolphins in stalls five and seven named Boto and Breezy.
Pink river dolphins were very social creatures, with long, bill-like noses and upturned mouths cut into perpetual smiles. They loved to play and to compete, and neither was about to miss the opportunity to show off to a new friend, especially a female one. Boto picked up a rock in his mouth and bobbed up and down, waving his fins with fashionable flair. Hongi applauded and signed to him.
Yah, mahn. Boto very strong. Strong like turtle shell. Boto will scoop up fat, fat woman dolphin.
Boto bowed his head and waved his fins, dropping the rock near the end of his stall next to Hongi, challenging Breezy in stall number seven. Breezy circled his stall a few times until he found a brown stone the size of a grapefruit; he picked it up in his mouth and spun around as though he were dancing. Hongi clapped her hands and signed.
Look at Breezy, the sexy beast. Breezy will have long life and make sweet love music to many dolphins.
Breezy dropped the rock and circled his cubicle, excited at the compliment.
Do you think it’s good to encourage them? signed David.
Why? signed Hongi.
No reason.
Boto nudged his nose into a pearly shell at the bottom of his stall and pressed a button inside. The waters began to vibrate with the bouncy, feel-good beat of a marimba. Boto backed away and bobbed his head, spinning around and waving his fins to the music. Breezy and a few dolphins opposite joined in. Hongi hopped up and began to dance and sign, shaking her shoulders and hips to the music.
Oh, yah mahn. Play mahn, play. Hongi see her pork chop today.
David laughed and shook his head.
Come mahn, dance now, signed Hongi.
No thanks, signed David.
Hongi kept moving to the marimba, wiggling her head and arms while Boto and Breezy twisted around and slapped their tails on the water, creating bursts of bubbles in time with the music. The doors to the stable screeched open; Hongi climbed on David’s back as he shrank back into the bottlenose just as two men entered the stable. It was Walter, the ancient, finicky stableman, and Jeffrey, his assistant.
“Alright, you party animals, it’s time to go,” said Walter, cutting the music from a control panel near the door.
“Yep, in a few hours’ time you can pillage piles of pilgrim pilchards with impunity,” said Jeffrey. He leaned toward a dolphin in stall one near the door. “Just don’t eat too much, or we’ll have to run you around the Okavango until you’re fit again, and you know what a workout that will be, don’t you, Belarus?”
The dolphin clicked and nodded, burying his face under the water.
Walter hobbled down the wooden walkway between the two rows of stalls, checking the dolphins. He stopped in front of stall number six where David was hiding inside the bottlenose.
“What do we have here?” asked Walter. The dolphin acted like a one-way mirror; David could see everything outside as though he were hiding in a clear plastic bag. Walter seemed to be staring right at him as though he could see through the skin. David froze.
“Hey, did you hear anything about the King getting a new polo dolphin?” asked Walter.
“No, must’ve come in without telling us,” said Jeffrey, stopping next to him. He read the sign on the front ledge. “Pablo, huh? He’s cute.”
Jeffrey wiggled his fingers on the water.
“How are you, Pablo?” asked Jeffrey. “Aw, you’re a nice dolphin, aren’t you? Yeah.”
“But the King only uses pink river,” said Walter. “This is a bottlenose.”
“Maybe he changed his mind,” said Jeffrey, shrugging. “The King did try a spinner once, remember? Maybe he’s branching out, looking for new tactics.”
Walter shook his head.
“No, this doesn’t seem right,” said Walter.
“Why?”
“I’ve been in these stables for forty-five decades; the King would’ve told me if he was bringing a bottlenose. We just have that sort of relationship,” said Walter.
“Well,” said Jeffrey, making a face.
“I’m calling the Palace,” said Walter.
“You’re going to call the King?” asked Jeffrey, but Walter was already at the kiosk, contacting the Palace.
Jeffrey shook his head.
“Don’t mind him, Pablo; he gets grumpy this time of year. Can’t stand to see you guys go, even for a little while,” said Jeffrey. “Isn’t that right, Boto?”
Boto screeched and dived toward the bottom of the pool. David tried to move the bottlenose’s head in a way that mimicked Boto and Breezy, but his arms were trembling, making it look more like Pablo was having some sort of muscle spasm. David eventually gave up and lay still. Walter came back, his face etched in a severe frown.
“What did he say?” asked Jeffrey.
“The King can’t answer now. Some sort of crisis at the Palace,” said Walter.
“So what are we going to do?”
“Load him up, of course. I just remembered the King told me about him after his last match,” said Walter.
“He did?” asked Jeffrey.
“Yep, came right up to me and said, ‘Walter, I’ll be bringing in a bottlenose next week. Would you mind looking after him? You’re the best stableman in Larimar.’ And of course I said yes. I said it would be a bit more work, but the King insisted… said he wouldn’t trust his dolphins to any other stableman, especially after all my years of dedicated service. Eventually he asked so much I finally gave in and said I wouldn’t mind. It’d be a bit more work since it’s a bottlenose, but I’d make a special effort. We have that sort of relationship.”
“The King said all that to you?” asked Jeffrey.
“Of course. I just clean forgot about it, that’s all,” said Walter, his voice gruff. “Load him up.”
Walter pressed a button on the control panel near the door, opening the roof. A crane unfurled itself from inside the rafters; Jeffrey attached a sling to the hook on the crane, which Walter then lowered into stall five, scooping up Boto and transferring him through the roof to a barge outside the stable. David held his breath as the sling tugged on the sides of the bottlenose, lifting him through the air and dropping him next to Boto. Once all the dolphins had been transferred, Walter and Jeffrey spun a webbed cover for the barge, sealing the dolphins inside a half-filled sphere of water and air. Jeffrey flicked his wrists, adding the crest of the King’s polo team to the web while Walter revved the engines. When all was in order the barge started its slow glide through the rivers of the Okavango toward the Central Docking Station, where the dolphins would be transferred to a manta that would take them through the Abyss to the edge of the Sardine Run in the Oceana, in the realm of Aeroth. David gripped the handles inside the bottlenose too tightly, his body tense. He held back a tear and sang a stupid song silently to himself, nudging Breezy playfully as he tried not to think.
C H A P T E R 7 9
Moai sat at the edge of the wooden dock on King’s Beach, his stubby feet stretched in front of him. He stared ahead at the dark cloud moving through the sea near the coast; it was the shoal of millions of sardines swimming from one end of
Aeroth to the other, a mass so large and dense it could be seen by the merish cloud constructors from behind the skyrock. As the breeze blew in from the sea the air filled with the smell and sound of swimming fish; Moai wiggled his toes as he looked out to sea. Suddenly he stopped. He jumped up from his seat and stared ahead with the serious look of a judge in court. Without another glance, Moai scurried down the sand as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him, past the spacey façade of the Gillypad and up the crooked walkway past the fig tree in the toilet. He banged on the door to Norbert’s shack, which still threatened to fall off its hinges at any moment. Norbert groaned from inside.
“Gilliwags, you are such a pill, you are. How many times a day do I have to… Oh, what is it, Moai?” asked Norbert, opening the door.
“Tatu is coming,” said Moai.
“Tatu? As in Davey-Tatu? Davey-the One-Tatu?” asked Norbert.
“Yah mahn, Tatu is coming now.”
“Are you sure? How do you know?” asked Norbert, squinting his eyes.
“Moai has a tingle in big toe,” said Moai, pointing to his foot.
Norbert’s face bubbled like a shaken soda bottle.
“It doesn’t get any surer than that!” said Norbert. He dived into the pile of junk in the corner of his shack, tossing a broken lamp to the side as he searched. Gill entered through the open doorway.
“Norbert, do you by chance have any smoked paprika? I’m making a casserole for dinner and am fresh out of… Oh, hello Moai,” said Gill.
Moai waved.
“As I was saying, do you have any smoked paprika?”
“I have no time to cure your epicurean issues, Gill, I’m off to the City,” said Norbert, as he squeezed his foot into a rubber boot he had just located under a curry pot. “Have to go see the bigwigs on some very important matters, I do.”
“Alright, how about I just help myself, then?” asked Gill.
“Fine, I keep the pappy on my spicy shelfie-shelf, behind Petunia,” said Norbert.