Ascension

by Kara Dalkey

  Besides, staying absolutely still for long periods could be dangerous to mermyds—their gills could not extract enough oxygen without water moving past. Either the water must move or the mermyd must, or else the mermyd would drift into sleep, and then unconsciousness, and then suffocating death.

  In a rope lattice, on the other hand, mermyds could lay their arms across the rope in front, hang their legs or tail over the rope behind, swing and sway gently, or wriggle in place. With many mermyds arrayed side by side, and one over the other, ten lattice rungs high, the water in the chamber was kept flowing by all their movement.

  Best of all, the Bluefin Palace had the privilege of being near the rim of the city, closer to the great filtration tubes whose suction kept the water of Atlantis clean and kept currents flowing. The water was cleaner here and felt fresher to the gills. Nearest the rim, right next to the Dome, was where the current was fastest, and Nia, as a child, would sometimes ride the rim current, once letting it take her all the way around the city. Her mother had had fits when she found out.

  Nia found a rung high enough to give her a good view of the center platform where Dyonis would speak, but low enough that she could swim down quickly if—when—she was called as the chosen candidate. There were few other mermyds on that row, so Nia could stretch out for a while in peace and try to recollect what she had planned to say in her acceptance speech.

  Suddenly, her ropes bounced and jostled as someone swam into the lattice beside her.

  “Greetings, cousin,” came a familiar nasal tone.

  Nia’s mood dimmed considerably. It was Garun.

  Nia wished she could have even slightly more respect for her cousin. He was near her age, seventeen. And he had two legs and somewhat humanlike features, like her. But he was about as dull and uninteresting as a mermyd could be. Even his hair, skin, and eyes were a pale blue-gray. He was studious, not very athletic, and completely unambitious. He was an archivist at the Farworlder Palace, and he was destined to be an archivist forever. Nia couldn’t imagine a more boring job, or a more boring mermyd to be in it. Except for his occasional tendency to make a point of seeming smarter than everyone else, Garun was hardly noticeable at all.

  “Good evening, Garun,” Nia said, hoping he wouldn’t stay beside her. She wanted to share her moment of victory with someone more interesting. “Were you thinking this was the best spot for a good view?” she asked him, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Actually, someone told me that you can hear better from about two rungs up.”

  Garun blinked at her as if she had just told him that she liked to eat green worms. “This is the rung for the eligible candidates. Didn’t you know? Isn’t it obvious that I would be here?”

  “I—I . . . of course,” Nia stammered. “I was just joking.” Does Garun think he’s an eligible candidate? Surely no one seriously intended to nominate him. Perhaps his parents bought him a place on the roster to boost his pride. Not that Garun’s huge ego needed that.

  But Nia knew exactly who her real competition was—her cousin Ichthus. He was another good athlete like her, maybe even better—but about as bright as a lantern fish. Then there was Bathys. She was only fifteen, and although she was bright, she wasn’t at all magically gifted. Sure enough, Nia saw the two of them heading toward the rung where she and Garun were, but she didn’t feel intimidated. In fact the sight of them only boosted her own confidence.

  Garun sighed, blowing bubbles out of his pursed, pale lips. “Dyonis is going to turn this way when he makes his final announcement. Our elders will be arrayed on those rungs,” he said, nodding at the lattice on the other side of the cylinder, “so they can see us when the name is announced. That name is going to be mine.”

  It was Nia’s turn to blink. “Yours?” She wondered if he was joking, or if he really was that deluded.

  I suppose spending all your days in the Archives might make you out of touch with the rest of the world, she thought. But didn’t anyone try to discourage him? Yes, he has mental gifts, but the first two Trials are physical tests of speed and strength. Garun couldn’t even finish one of those races, much less win.

  “Well. Good luck,” she said halfheartedly.

  “I won’t need luck,” Garun boasted in his usual way.

  Nia sighed and decided not to be rude. Let him have his hopes while he can, she told herself, letting the excitement wash over her again as she imagined what she’d feel when she heard her name announced.

  Bathys eagerly swam over and took the rung beside Nia. She looked so very young, with her wide, eager golden eyes and bouncy yellow-green hair. In fact, all of her was bouncy—Bathys could hardly keep her tail and hands from flapping all over. “Isn’t this exciting?” she kept asking.

  “Yes, yes, it is,” Nia said with a sisterly smile. At least I won’t have to worry about still water in this rung. Bathys will keep it moving just fine all by herself.

  Ichthus took the rung just on the other side of Garun. Ichthus didn’t talk much, but you could tell from the light in his eyes and his great big grin that he was just as excited as Bathys.

  The lattice began to fill up with other mermyds. As Garun had said, her parents and other elders of the Bluefin Clan took rungs on the other side, in a good position to watch the competitors.

  At last, Dyonis swam into the center of the cylinder, above the platform on the floor, and raised his arms. “Good evening, those of the Bluefin Clan! On this night, we choose one of our kind to be the symbol of our honor, our strength, and our wisdom in the upcoming Trials. The Trials that will elevate the one who will be the new Avatar into the Low Council.

  “As always, we choose one of our young, someone whose mind is still growing, and whose growth therefore can be guided through the watchful care of a Farworlder, eventually achieving greater wisdom than any mermyd alone can know. Someone whose body is strong, so that it may withstand the Naming, and will have many years of healthful life ahead to share with a king. . . .”

  Well, that takes Bathys and Garun off the list, Nia thought, biting back a smile. She could barely believe this was happening—she was so close to seeing her dream become real. She would soon be one of the honored few charged with keeping Atlantis safe and beautiful. She would learn the secrets of the past from the Farworlders and help keep the future peaceful and . . .

  “. . . Someone who has new thoughts as to how things might be done, and who is not weighed down by years of tradition and habit. Someone with a talent for concentrating his or her mind, which is essential for the practice of magic, so that the new Avatar can assist in keeping Atlantis running well and safe from harm.”

  And that is where my parents say I am weakest, Nia thought, shifting. They say I am easily distracted. I can’t believe Dyonis said he hates giving speeches. He’s talked so long. Who is he going to pick? I can hardly stand it! She gripped the rope in front of her so hard her palms hurt.

  “We choose our best,” Dyonis went on, “in hopes that the Councils, High and Low, will look upon our candidate’s efforts in the Trials and deem him or her worthy of being one of their number.

  “We, the elders of the Bluefin Clan, have made our selection, and we believe this young person represents our best hope for the future of Atlantis. I now call upon that one to come forward and accept the honor and challenge that our selection bestows. I call upon . . . Garun!”

  Nia’s jaw dropped. She watched openmouthed as Garun sprang from the rungs and swam awkwardly to tread water beside Dyonis. As she heard the cheering around her, Nia felt dizzy, her head spinning slightly as if she were ill. No, no, it isn’t possible! How could they have chosen Garun over me? How?

  Chapter Two

  Nia swam back and forth through the malachite archways, unable to remain still for even a short time. She was currently on duty as a palace guard in the Farworlder Royal Nursery. It was her job, for several hours every other day, to watch over the offspring of the Farworlder kings. Although it was a well-respected post, Nia had been anx
ious to leave it behind when she assumed her responsibilities as Avatar. Watching over Farworlders was one thing—but watching over the entire city of Atlantis was her true dream.

  Nia sighed, staring at the bubbles that formed in the water in front of her. She hadn’t stayed at the Bluefin gathering the night before, after Garun’s name was announced. It had been rude of her, she knew, but she just couldn’t manage to congratulate him. It’s not just because I lost, she thought, but because the pride of the Bluefin Clan is at stake. Won’t we make fools of ourselves with Garun representing us?

  She had been unable to hide her disappointment. She had not dared to speak to Dyonis, fearing what she might say, but Nia had glanced at him before she went out the door. He had gazed back at her with sorrow and regret, so he clearly knew how shocked and devastated the announcement had left her. Then why had he made such a surprising choice?

  Nia moved her gaze to the little baby Farworlders, snug in their translucent, opalescent shells. They waved their little shrimp-pink tentacles at her, as if sensing her pain.

  Back and forth she swam past the rows of squidlings, as she considered them. Of course that wasn’t what the Farworlders truly were—they were an alien race of creatures who had come to Atlantis eons ago when the ship they were traveling on landed there. But as babies, they resembled small squids, which was why she referred to them as such. Nia checked to see that each infant had a little bag full of plankton and shredded seaweed to eat. She also made sure there were no spots on the babies’ transparent skins that might indicate infection. There wasn’t much else for her to do, other than look officious and protective if someone came by. The little Farworlders pretty much looked after themselves.

  Even if the job wasn’t always exciting, Nia enjoyed being with the infant Farworlders. In fact, she often suspected one of them was trying to communicate, magically, with her. Sometimes, when she swam quietly on duty, she could almost feel the little one probing at her mind, reaching out with tentacles of thought, trying to sense her. Making her see or hear things. Practicing, she thought, for when it will be joined to an Avatar.

  This was something Nia had quickly learned she couldn’t tell other mermyds. Her friends told her she was making things up—no Farworlder could share thoughts with a mermyd it wasn’t joined to. Only during the Naming, by receiving in one’s blood the secretions of the Farworlder’s oculus, could a mermyd even begin to have such an ability. The Farworlders’ oculus glands were the sources of their magic, and it was only because of these glands that they could establish the strong mental connections with mermyd Avatars. The glands also allowed Farworlders to sense things about the Unis—the fabric of space and time—and perceive images in the unfolding of fate. There were limitations to these abilities, but the idea of actually being able to sense the future had been one of the reasons Nia had longed to be an Avatar. She was always looking forward to the future, anxious to plan and develop exciting new things for Atlantis. Being an Avatar would have meant being linked to a Farworlder with whom she could have shared all these dreams.

  But you are not an Avatar, and you aren’t going to be, Nia reminded herself. Which was why she had to keep quiet about the mental connection she was sure she felt with the infant Farworlder. She didn’t want everyone around her to think she was crazy.

  Nia felt strands of her hair being tugged. She turned . . . but no one was there. She felt a tickle on her left arm and scratched. Then she heard a chittering from one of the baby Farworlders behind her, playing tricks on her again. She sighed. “Please, little one, I’m not in the mood to play today.”

  She felt a touch on her cheek, as if someone was trying to comfort her. Nia knew which little Farworlder it had come from—the one that had become her favorite, third from the left, first row. It was a bit larger than the others and more playful, always wiggling its tentacles at her whenever she swam by. Nia had even begun playing back, letting it wrap its tentacles around her fingers. But Nia had always been careful to avoid the tentacle with the circle of tiny talons on the tip. Those talons would be used by the Farworlder during a Naming to mark an Avatar, to inject the secretion to complete the joining of minds.

  Nia swam over to it and bent to smile at the little one in the shell. “You again. What are you up to this time? Do you want to get me in trouble by making people think I’m crazy? Just you wait—someday you might become a king, and then you’ll join your mind to a mermyd and know how we suffer for your sake.”

  Then all the little Farworlders began chittering, clacking their tiny beaks. “Oh, what is it?” Nia cried, exasperated. She felt another tickle, this time on her right shoulder blade, and she spun around.

  “Now you stop—” she started, breaking off when she saw that someone was actually there.

  “Cephan!” she blurted out, her eyes widening as she saw his face. She hoped she wasn’t blushing blue, as she usually did when he was around.

  “Stop what?” he asked.

  “Um . . .” Her gills fluttered, making it hard to speak.

  “You know, you can’t be an effective guardian if you let just anyone sneak up behind you.”

  “I . . . I was distracted.”

  She was even more distracted now. Distracted by Cephan’s thick, curly hair that was such a dark green it was almost black. Distracted by his deep, deep blue eyes. She felt the blush rise to her cheeks as she continued to stare. Cephan had a powerful fishtail with glossy scales the color of his hair. He was nearly perfect, in her opinion. They’d been flirting for a while now, and she hoped his coming here meant he felt the same way about her that she did about him.

  “You know you shouldn’t be here,” she finally said.

  Cephan grinned. “And that’s why I’m here,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Well, and also to see you.” Then he turned to address the squidlings. “Hey, little fellows! Look what I’ve brought you!” He pulled from a pouch at his waist a tiny green sphere of some transparent material. There was an air bubble at the center of it. Cephan let go of the sphere right over one of the Farworlders’ shells, and the thing slowly dropped through the water. The baby Farworlder reached up with its tentacles and batted the sphere away. This sent the sphere over toward another squidling, who reached up and tossed it to yet another. Pretty soon the sphere was slowly bouncing between the shells, and the baby Farworlders were chittering merrily.

  “I don’t understand,” Cephan said. “We mermyds, as children, get toys all the time, but these creatures are never given any toys.”

  “They’re very delicate,” Nia explained, “and they can be easily bruised or have tentacles torn off. And . . . what is that thing, anyway?”

  Cephan leaned toward her conspiratorially. “It’s from the land-dwellers. Shh. Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Land-dwellers?” Nia cried in amazement. “How did you get a thing made by land-dwellers?”

  “I have a cousin who’s a hunter. He went out into the Greater Ocean for a while. He brought that back with him, among other things.”

  “You know someone who went Outside? What did he see? Are there any land-dwellers left? What did he tell you?”

  Cephan laughed. “I guess you’re pretty interested in the world out there,” he said, raising his brows. “Well. I can’t tell you much, as my cousin was sworn to secrecy. But I can say this: There are plenty of land-dwellers, all over the world. But their ships aren’t as big as they used to be, before the Sinking. Anyway, that object is a float some land-dwellers tie to their fishing nets.”

  “Ahh.” Nia admired the rare object for a moment and then started to worry that she’d get in trouble if it were found in the nursery. She snatched it while it was in midbounce and held it tightly in her hand. “I’d better keep it for now.”

  “You’re spoiling their fun,” he complained.

  “They aren’t supposed to have fun. One of them is soon going to be picked to be the king for whoever wins the Trials, and I want them all to stay healthy.”

  “Ah. The Tria
ls. I heard about Garun being chosen as the Bluefins’ competitor,” Cephan said gently. “I am so sorry, Nia. I know how much you wanted to compete.”

  “I must accept the elders’ decision,” Nia admitted. “But I don’t understand it. Garun is . . . a nobody! A nothing!”

  Cephan cocked his head to the side. “Even those who seem to be nobodies and nothings may hide amazing talents, Nia.”

  “Not Garun,” she retorted. “Yes, he is very smart, and I’ve heard he has magical strengths. But I can’t imagine he will do well.” She played with the toy in her palm, running her fingers over it. “You don’t think it was me, do you?” she asked softly. “Did I do something wrong that made them choose someone else?”

  “Impossible,” Cephan said. He moved closer to her, and her heart began to beat more quickly. “I can’t think of any reason why they didn’t choose you,” he said sincerely, meeting her gaze. “It was probably just politics. And don’t ask me to explain politics. As we say in the Lower Depths, ‘Bottom-feeders can only see the underbellies of those who swim above.’”

  “You are not a bottom-feeder,” Nia said, staring up into his eyes. “You are more kind and noble in spirit than half the Sunfish mermyds I’ve met.”

  Cephan blushed a little and looked down. “If kindness were a qualification, they should have chosen you over all the other Bluefins,” he said. “And you are certainly stronger and faster than Garun. And, besides, the little Farworlders like you.”

  Now it was Nia’s turn to smile and blush. “Thanks, but I don’t think being able to entertain the Royal Nursery is a suitable qualification for Avatar. Or else you’d be chosen just for giving them a toy.”

  “Why not? This is a very important job, what you do,” Cephan argued. “Don’t think it isn’t, just because it isn’t more public. The High Council wouldn’t have appointed you to this post if they didn’t think you were trustworthy. What could be more precious than their offspring? Besides, think how much you’d have to entertain one Farworlder if you’re joined to it all your life. What could be more important for an Avatar than the skill of getting along with Farworlders?”