by Tara Omar
Squid…lasso…
Threads of filament flicked from his wrists like sparks off flint. David concentrated harder.
Bottlenose…blades…
He could hear the pounding steps of guards growing louder and increasing in number.
Come on…come on…
But the filament refused to spin. In one last act of desperation David threw out his arms and shouted in his mind with everything he had. Thick bands of blue filament burst from his wrists and frayed into a net, surrounding him in an orb of threads which hardened into stretchy plastic. David burst through the top of the pool and ran, the guards tailing closely behind, while Ephraim watched from the balcony.
“Is that an inflatable porcupine?” he asked.
David cut through the shop in front, glancing at a mirror as he passed.
Way to go, David. This is not conspicuous, not conspicuous at all…
He raced down the steps and across the road and lawns, his disguise losing inflatable quills as he ran. The guards hopped and tripped over the trail as they followed him. David turned down an alley and made his way to a busy row of storefronts, the last of his quills dropped far behind, so he now looked like the wrinkled remains of a naked mole rat. He ducked into the first shop he saw, above which hung an ancient wooden sign.
Frank’s Incense: Suppliers of Quality Olibanum
A shopkeeper with a well-combed beard stared at the wrinkly mole rat from behind the counter, but David didn’t notice. He was cramping from the run; the sharp stings attacking his sides told him he would not outrun the guards for much longer. He dashed behind the counter and threw open the nearest cabinet, pushing its contents into a basket near it. He jumped inside and closed the door, but the shopkeeper opened it again. He tilted the mole rat’s head and shoulders as though he was adjusting a pose for a photograph, motioning with his hands for David to stay still. Then he locked the cabinet doors and spun around, grabbing a nearby rag just as a group of guards burst through the doors to his shop.
“A very good day to you, Sir,” said the guard.
The shopkeeper stared him down as he polished his counter with the rag, looking as cold and socially impenetrable as a rock. The guard swallowed.
“We’re chasing a thief from the House of Jakobson and we think he might have hidden away in one of the shops down this road. Would you mind if we search the place?”
But the shopkeeper ignored him. The guard shifted and glanced around, his eyes focusing on the cabinet behind him.
“Would you at least open those doors for us?”
The shopkeeper moved in front of the counter and wiped his hands. The guards watched him curiously as he put down the rag and stared at them. Without warning he grabbed their blades and flung them into the cabinet one by one, arranged in such a pattern it would be impossible for anyone to be hiding in that space and still be alive. Then he walked back to the cabinet and pulled out their blades, which were stuck with such a force they were down to the hilt. In one last motion, he drove a final blade through the top of the cabinet down to its centre. Then he removed it and threw the blades back to the guards. The main guard swallowed.
“Right then, guess that settles it,” said the guard. He turned to the men behind him, lowering his tone. “Come along, gents, this man is bloody crazy.”
The shopkeeper smiled to himself as the guards filed out. Then he locked the shop door and opened the cabinet, where David Michelson sat trembling in an awkward position, amid the tatters of a plastic, naked mole rat. Slits ran across his cheek, arms and stomach from the blades; his human disguise fell to shreds as he tumbled out. The shopkeeper helped him up.
“You’re safe now. Follow me,” he said, turning toward the back of the shop. David looked to the door.
“Come,” said the shopkeeper. He unlocked the back exit, and David followed him out, down an alley and into the bushveld. They walked for a time through the grass, until all traces of buildings and humans had disappeared. Soon there was nothing but the powdery smell of plants and the buzzing of insects. David squinted as he stared ahead, but he could see nothing except the grassy field and a distant mountain.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Home,” said the man. “It’s time for dinner.”
David glanced at his wrists, the merish markings clearly visible. He frowned. “And you’re not going to ask me why a mer is this side of the Abyss?”
“No.”
“Aren’t you interested?” asked David.
“I don’t like to pry,” said the man. David jogged next to him.
“So you’re not worried in the slightest that I might be dangerous?”
The man shrugged. “You could’ve shot a blade at me by now if you wanted.”
“But my face was all over the Rosy Herald,” said David. “I’m accused of killing King Saladin. Doesn’t that concern you at all?”
“Not really.”
David stared at him. “Why not?”
“I’m not particularly interested in Aerothian politics,” said the man. “Also, I don’t think you did it. You don’t seem the sort.”
“How would you know?”
The man glanced at a shred of naked mole rat stuck to David’s shoulder. He smiled. “I don’t.”
“So, you’re just going to let me waltz into your home, have supper with you and chat about random things as if I’m the neighbour next door?” asked David. The man stopped and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you have any concern for personal safety?” asked David.
The man chuckled.
“Well, can I at least know your name then?” asked David.
He sighed. “Sasha Frank. Now come on.” The man rolled his eyes and continued walking toward the mountains, with nothing but sky, bush and a confused mer behind.
C h a p t e r 1 3
When the sun had almost set, David noticed the warm lights of a cottage nestled in a grove of trees at the base of the mountains. It had two nomadic tents connected to its sides and at its centre a smoking chimney, which looked so old it could have been formed with the creation of Aeroth. In fact, the whole place had an air of eternity to it, as though someone had taken a quick gasp of air and held it for a very long time. David followed Sasha inside, where a pot was bubbling on the fire and stretched shadows of a woman doing yoga in the next room fluttered across the wall.
“Sash, can you feed Fluffy for me? He’s looking rather starved, and I really need to work through my poses before dinner,” said the woman, who slid into a warrior pose just beyond the wall. Without a word, Sasha grabbed a sack of flour from the shelf and filled a glass full of water. David followed him.
“Who’s Fluffy?” he asked.
Sasha pointed to a bowl filled with cream-coloured goo on top of an icebox, which had a leash around it and the name Fluffy painted on its side. It was a sourdough starter, a bowl of fermented flour used for making breads. Sasha dumped the extra flour and water into the bowl.
“Rough day?” he called.
“Was it ever,” said the woman. “They threw me out of the casino again for demonstrating, rather forcefully, I might add. Ibex is getting crueller by the day.”
“Yazzi, please, I really don’t like you protesting there,” grumbled Sasha.
“I have to, Sash. The people need to be warned,” said the woman as she entered the room. She paused. “Oh, hello. You didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest.”
“Dave—”
“Lotkin,” interrupted David.
“This is my wife, Yasmin Frank.”
“Peace and welcome to our home,” said Yasmin, in a direction not quite even with David eyes. She stared blankly at the spot and smiled. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be serving soon.
Though blind, Yasmin moved around the room with the graceful eas
e of a ballerina with perfect sight. She quickly scooped up three bowls of soup and carried them to the table, nearly singing as she spoke. “Tonight’s menu includes split pea soup with wilted spinach and kale, haricots and asparagus, along with some fluffy sourdough rolls and freshly-squeezed prune juice. Enjoy!”
Sasha cleared his throat. “Yasmin maintains a strictly vegetarian household.”
“Mhm, vegetables are cleaner energy,” said Yasmin. “It took Sash a bit of getting used to, but he’s so much better for it now. Dave, you must tell me how you like it.”
“It’s very…green,” said David, frowning at his bowl.
Yasmin looked up.
“And it’s lovely. The prune juice is a nice touch. Really brings it all together,” said David. Yasmin relaxed into an enthusiastic smile.
“Oh good. You’ll feel a million times better after dinner, I guarantee it. All these clean vibes will clear your system. I know I need it after being so near the Zodic, but what can you do? Such bad energy there. A lot of anger is building up in those stones. It will not be long before the people perish in fire and brimstone, which is why I must protest.”
“Are you rebels?” asked David.
“What? No, we’re Aaronites through and through. Though I must admit Sash has considered moving up the mountains. The idea of leaving behind all civilisation is very appealing to him, though I prefer to be among people.”
“She’s very political,” said Sasha. Yasmin leaned forward.
“Someone has to protest, Sash. If the nerves don’t scream, how will the body know it’s perishing? The same is true for society. It’s also good fun when you get the hang of it.” She smirked.
“So, you’re against gambling then?” asked David. “If you think the people will perish at the Zodic—”
“Oh, they will! Mount Leah is due for an eruption soon. Sash has predicted it.”
“Yazzi, please. Not while were eating,” said Sasha.
“I don’t understand,” said David.
“The Zodic casino sits inside the base of Mount Leah, a volcano,” said Yasmin. “When she erupts, the people will perish.”
“Oh, you mean literally perish,” said David.
“Yes, Sash is a geologist—”
“Amateur geologist—” interrupted Sasha.
“— and he thinks it can happen very soon,” said Yasmin. David stared at her. “I thought Mount Leah was extinct.”
“That’s what everyone thinks or thought, but my husband found evidence otherwise.”
Sasha let out a heavy sigh. “Boy, I wonder who it was who invented soup? Rather efficient, is it not—putting all your food groups into a warm beverage? Whoever came up with the idea must have been truly brilliant.”
“Yes, it’s lovely,” said Yasmin.
“Though not as lovely as my wife,” said Sasha, kissing her cheek. “Do you need help washing up?”
“No, I’m fine,” said Yasmin, “though I do have a lot of censers that need to ship next week. It’d be great if you could fire a batch for me.”
“Consider it done,” said Sasha. “If you need anything else, I shall be in my yurt. Dave, if you could help me with these?” He took a tray of unfinished stoneware and handed it to David, before carrying another down the hall. David followed him, thoughtful.
“You’re from the Fraternity, aren’t you?” asked David. “You’re protecting me because I’m the One.”
“What?” asked Sasha.
“You know,” said David, “the nephesh amphibian.”
Sasha stared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t?”
“No,” said Sasha.
He pushed through a door at the end of the hall marked His, and entered into a round tent. It was nearly the size of the house and was lined with glass cases, each filled with precisely-placed rocks, photos and memorabilia. A large kiln was tucked between the cases and a heavily-modified, off-road vehicle was parked in the corner, but the focal point of the room was certainly the centre of the room, where a detailed model of a volcano towered under an opening in the roof. David looked around. Everything, even the kiln and car, were immaculately clean.
“You look disappointed,” said Sasha.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re being nice to me.”
“Do I need an excuse to be sociable?” asked Sasha.
“You don’t seem the sociable sort,” said David.
Sasha chuckled.
“Or perhaps you want something then?” asked David. “Or are you planning on turning me in?”
“No and no,” said Sasha, loading the ceramic censers inside the open kiln. He adjusted them so they were evenly spaced, to a precision that mimicked an assembly line. David paused.
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Scepticism can evidence the same lack of knowledge as naïveté,” said Sasha.
“And in your case, you just prefer to be naïf then, by keeping me around,” said David.
“You know no one’s stopping you from leaving,” said Sasha as he shut the kiln door. “If you want to reject our hospitality, you can.”
David rubbed his neck. “Sorry, I’ve just had a rough go with people recently. Trust isn’t one of my strong points, but I’m not a bad person.”
“I know,” said Sasha.
“And I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Saladin,” said David. “I’m actually an art and music teacher who, for reasons unknown to me, has gotten tangled up in a horrible, horrible mess. Really.”
“I believe you,” said Sasha. He turned to the model volcano at the centre of the room, which had begun to smoke, scanning various points of the base with a handheld sensor. David watched as he wrote figures into a notebook.
“So you sell incense,” said David.
“Yes,” said Sasha.
“And you’re a geologist. That’s some hobby,” said David.
“It’s a lot of reading and rock sampling,” said Sasha, checking his notes.
“And it’s not your job?”
“You should probably duck now.”
“What?”
“Duck.”
The volcano in the middle of the yurt erupted in a shower of glowing, red-orange goo, spraying the cases with tiny globules of modelling magma before quieting to a steady stream down the sides of the rock. David stood up, entranced.
“Wow, that’s freaking awesome,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Sasha. “It’s mostly theoretical, though. All the volcanoes in Aeroth went extinct a long time ago.”
David grinned. “Or supposedly went extinct, according to Yasmin.”
Sasha looked at the bubbling volcano.
“Do you really think this could happen in Aeroth?” asked David.
“I predict the viscosity of the magma under the Zodic will be greater than this model, so it shouldn’t be as violent of an eruption, but yeah, something like this,” said Sasha.
“How do you know?” asked David.
Sasha picked away a speck of tar from the ravaged field surrounding the volcano and pressed a button. A spherical model projected from the opening of the volcano and floated above it, showing a world that looked like a hollow geode. The geode was split into two land masses opposite each other, with a body of water dividing the two halves known as the Abyss. One half was marked Larimar, and the other, Aeroth. The landmasses were connected to each other by thick columns of rock. He pointed to a rock column along the edge of the Abyss.
“This is the area where the Aerothian landmass meets Larimar. As you know the world turns in space and is surrounded above the sky and beneath the ground by a layer of water. The two landmasses should have balanced out a long time ago, but I suspect they haven’t finished moving yet. Aeroth’s size and composition make it less dense tha
n the merish territory, so I suspect that as the two rotate, Aeroth may still be moving slightly faster than Larimar. Over time this could gradually cause an immense pressure point here, like the centre of a rung towel. The pressure melts the rock into magma, and as the pressure increases, the magma must eventually burst out through the weakest point in the rock, which traditionally has been Mount Leah. The magma will add more weight to Aeroth’s side, and the system will finally balance.”
David followed the highlighted cracks and tunnels up to the casino. “Are there any warning signs of an imminent eruption?” he asked. Sasha nodded.
“There’s been evidence of tectonic activity,” said Sasha. “We’ve also found at least one hydrothermal vent spewing sulphur—”
“Sulphur?” interrupted David.
“Yes,” said Sasha.
David’s heart leapt to his throat.
A hydrothermal vent was spewing sulphur into the water—the same polluting substance that almost sent the mers to war.
David looked at the model. “When I was in Larimar, the mers reported increased levels of sulphur in the water. Would the activity of this hydrothermal vent you discovered be enough to induce a famine?”
“Maybe,” said Sasha. He paused. “Probably, yes.”
“Then you might be right about this volcano being active,” said David, crossing his arms. Sasha stroked his beard, thoughtful.
“That’s unfortunate. I mean it’s good for my theory, but pretty bad for everyone else.”
“Pretty bad? This looks like it could be catastrophic,” said David. “Yasmin has a point, you know. Why don’t you warn people?”
“It’s not my place,” said Sasha, turning to his clipboard. “I doubt they’d listen anyway.”
“Shouldn’t you at least try?” asked David. “I mean, what are you doing this for then, if you don’t want to tell people?”