by Kara Dalkey
“You look . . . dazzling, Mother,” Nia said, meaning it. The Trials were the sort of event where the high-born went to see and be seen—there was more competition going on than just that on the field.
“Isn’t she sweet?” Tyra crooned. “Have you had anything to eat, Nia? You’re looking so thin these days. Here.” Her mother handed Nia a cone of seaweed filled with shredded crab and bits of raw tuna, held together with anchovy paste.
“I’ve been training, Mother,” Nia explained. “Fat makes you float and slows you down.” But training also makes an athlete hungry, and Nia suddenly felt ravenous. She devoured the nori-cone in five bites. It tasted savory and salty. At least the Bluefins always hired good cooks.
“That’s better. Athletes need to get their energy from somewhere,” Tyra lectured.
“You know, I was thinking the other day,” Nia said, “that it might be wonderful to have baleen, like whales do, instead of teeth in the mouth? Then swimmers could just go and go and go, sucking up food from the water as they went. The faster you went, the more food you’d gather. The more food you’d gather, the faster and longer you could swim. You’d never have to stop for meals.”
“What an . . . interesting notion,” Tyra said, bewildered.
Across the room, Dyonis was regarding her with a smile that was half amused, half disturbed. Nia decided she ought to say something to him, after her awkward, hasty departure from his study days before. “I am glad to see you, Grandfather. But you didn’t bring Ar’an with you. Doesn’t he like to watch the Opening Ceremonies?”
The strange expression this brought to Dyonis’s face was unreadable. “Ar’an will be watching with others of his kind. Shall I pass along to him your . . . greeting?”
“If you could also pass along an apology,” Nia said.
“There is no need,” Dyonis reassured her. “Although I could arrange for you to apologize to him in person, if you wish.”
“No! No, thanks. I . . . wouldn’t want to trouble him.” Nia decided it was time to keep her mouth shut.
“The Ceremonies are about to begin,” her mother said. “Come. Sit.” Tyra guided Nia toward the front of the box. There, in some mouthbreather’s idea of comfort, were chairs made of giant padded clam shells. Nia curled up on one but declined to use the seat strap.
She heard a soft floomp and saw her father settling his wide girth into the other clamshell chair beside her. He began speaking to no one in particular. “Ah, these are great days for us, great days. Wouldn’t miss this for all the coral in the sea.”
As usual, Nia didn’t quite know what to say to him. “My training’s been going well, Father. This afternoon I did a circuit of the city in my fastest time yet, without even using the flow-currents.”
“Hmm, well that’s good. That’s good.” Pontus tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
“I ate a sea slug just to see what it tasted like.”
“Hmm, yes, that’s good, that’s . . . eh, what?” He finally looked at her.
“Just checking,” Nia said with a teasing grin.
Pontus shook his head. “You are a strange child.” He closed his eyes again.
Definitely time to keep my mouth shut, Nia thought with a sigh. She could taste on the water that her father had been drinking a good bit of the seaweed wine already. Still, his words were painful to her.
Nia gazed out toward the field, hoping to catch a glimpse of Cephan. There were some dark-haired young mermyds at the far end of the field, but she couldn’t be sure one of them was him.
“Trying to see a bit closer, are you?” Dyonis asked her. “Here, use this. It’s an invention of the Farworlders.” He extended a tube out of the wall below the arch in front of them and a picture immediately appeared on the wall. “Just look through the tube and point it at what you want to see. You’ll see a close picture of it there on the wall. The longer you extend the tube, the closer you can look. Pretty amazing, isn’t it? Give it a try.”
Carefully holding the tube in one hand, Nia pointed it toward the group of dark-haired young men. Turning to the picture on the wall, she could see one of them was, indeed, Cephan. He was looking very handsome, wearing bands of cloth across his chest in the dark sand and gray of his clan.
Her mother swam over and gently grasped her wrist. “If you’re looking to set your net for a worthwhile catch, here’s where you should place your regard.” Tyra moved Nia’s arm until the tube was pointed toward a cluster of young men closer to the box. These were wearing the gold and yellow-green of the Sunfish Clan. They were handsome enough, but Nia knew them to be rude, arrogant fellows. And after some of the things Callimar had told her about their snobbish behavior, Nia found it impossible to be interested in them.
“It is among those you will find a fulfilling mate someday,” Tyra said.
Nia worked very hard at not laughing. Wonderful. First my mother wants to meddle in my career, and now she wants to meddle in my love life too.
Suddenly the water around them vibrated with the eerie drone of a hundred conchshell trumpets being played. The competitors above the field all swam over to the side walls.
“Aha!” her father cried, sitting up. “The Opening Ceremonies begin! Let’s hope they’re not as dull as they were the last time.”
Nia had not been alive the last time an Avatar was chosen, so she had no idea what her father meant.
Music began, and a huge school of trained squid wriggled into the arena, hovering over the center of the field. Their phosphorescence pulsed pink, blue, and green, in time with the music.
“Oh, no,” Pontus moaned. “They’re doing the History of the Farworlders again.”
“Hush, dear,” Tyra said. “It’s tradition.”
The squid swirled into various formations, each more dazzling than the last. One set seemed to depict a great, glimmering city. Another seemed to show a battle, with two groups of squid fighting each other. As the final formation, the squids organized into a glowing sun, the shape of the royal symbol, and then swam bursting outward, as if the sun had exploded, hundreds of shimmering shards of life spreading out through the dark waters.
Nia watched, fascinated, trying to remember her Farworlder history. She knew they had come from another ocean far away, but it had been difficult for her to grasp the idea of an even vaster ocean, an ocean of darkness without water or even air, that lay between the worlds.
The trained squid built another formation, which Nia recognized. It was Atlantis before the Sinking, a sparkling pyramid shining in sunlight. How could any mermyds, let alone land-dwellers, not be blinded by such a sight? Nia wondered.
Then the squid with blue and green phosphorescent lights wriggled up and around the city formation, covering it over. Bit by bit, bottom to top, the lights winked out, reenacting the Sinking. Pontus’s neck gills stretched wide in a yawn that disturbed the water all around him.
Tyra slapped his shoulder gently. “Really, dear, try to show some courtesy.”
The next display was a sinuous dance by the mermyds of the Moray Clan, for which Nia’s father was curiously silent and attentive. Nia thought the male Morays weren’t nearly as handsome as Cephan, but they did have a certain gracefulness. The female Morays seemed able to bend their bodies into impossible positions, and Nia admired the muscle strength they must have to make it look so effortless.
At last, with flourishes of their tails, the Morays left the performance space. With a loud pop and a wheeeee!, suddenly a troop of porpoises rushed over the field into the middle. Everyone in the arena cheered, for they all loved the porpoises. Usually, the dolphins and porpoises of Atlantis delivered packages and messages, found lost children, and could give you a fast ride somewhere, if you needed it.
But in the Opening Ceremonies, the porpoises got a chance to show off. They did a frenetic dance while singing a silly song that to Nia sounded like “Yakkety-yak, yakkety-yak” and a lot of clicks. It was said that the Farworlders could understand the porpoise language. In which
case, an Avatar should be able to understand them too, Nia thought. She turned her head and looked at Dyonis. He was smiling and chuckling to himself. She felt envious. “What are they singing about, Dyonis?”
“Hmm? Oh . . . it, um . . . it doesn’t translate very well,” was all he would say.
The porpoises finished their song and dashed off to their dry-room breathing chambers under the arena. Unlike mermyds, porpoises could not breathe water, so they had to surface to breathe air in the special sealed rooms. Legend had it that these dry rooms had originally been made for the few surviving humans who had been trapped on Atlantis at the Sinking. Nia remembered learning at the Academy how difficult it was to take air from the sea to fill those chambers. Even despite such aid, the stories said, the ancient land-dweller survivors had not lasted more than a few months. Tragic plays and poems had been written about those mythical land-dwellers’ last days.
To spend the rest of your life locked in one room, Nia thought with a shudder. How could anyone bear it? She remembered Ma’el and Joab in their cell in the Lower Depths. Whatever he did, was it worth such punishment? Wouldn’t banishment have been more kind?
Oohs and ahs burbled through the arena as an enormous, long shape appeared overhead and then descended nearly to the level of the field. It was an elderly blue whale that the city of Atlantis had adopted—she was often seen swimming just beyond the Dome. How did they get her into the city? Nia wondered. The whale practically filled the whole arena.
And then the whale sang, her incredibly powerful and deep voice resonating through the water, through every mermyd body. She sang without words, but Nia heard in her long tones the loneliness of the wide ocean, the beauty and serenity of the depths of the sea. She sang of eternity.
Nia was enthralled, and she felt her eyes sting with the urge to cry, but fought it down. She noticed her mother and aunt blinking more than usual, as well. The whale finished her song and ascended again, out of the arena. The cheers of the assembled mermyds were heartfelt as they watched her go.
“Good, it’s over,” Pontus said. “The fat old lady has sung. Now we can get on to the real stuff.”
“Pontus!” Tyra cried, scandalized.
“What? I’m here to watch Garun, not to see this foo-farah.”
Nia buried her face in her hands and sank deeper into the cushion of the clamshell chair. How could anyone claim her behavior was embarrassing?
Another whoooom of the conch shells, like a herd of whales sounding in unison, announced that the Parade of Competitors was about to begin. Each contestant, one from each of the thirty-two clans, would swim around the arena, bearing the clan banner.
Nia sat up, wondering what, if anything, she should do when Cephan swam by. Something as subtle as a wink? No, he probably wouldn’t see that. Should I wave? My parents might notice that. Just smile? Should I do nothing and let him wonder why I’m being haughty? Nia chewed on her thumb-webbing, unable to decide.
“Do you think Garun will be first?” Aunt Maru asked.
“That’s impossible to say,” Tyra replied. “In the name of fairness, they are supposed to pick the order of clans randomly.”
“But, I mean, with all the . . .” Suddenly Aunt Maru glanced at Nia. “I mean, of course. Rank shouldn’t make any difference. It would be impossible to know.”
Why are they acting so strangely? Nia wondered, feeling her skin begin to creep. Am I imagining things, or does everyone seem uncomfortable around me? Nia huddled in her chair, knees to her chin, and tried to seem as harmless as possible, focusing her attention on the parade.
The first candidate was the entrant from the Sunfish Clan. So much for random choice, Nia thought. They probably insisted on being first no matter what. Carrying the gold-and-yellow-green banner, the mermyd swam proudly by. He was thinner than Nia liked, and he’d actually had his fin scales painted gold to match the banner. Nia thought that a bit gaudy.
Next was the contestant for the Dolphin Clan, a mermyd carrying a gray-and-white banner. At least she seemed to be having fun, smiling and waving at everybody. Nia couldn’t help but wave back, even though she didn’t know her.
Third came Garun. He was also smiling, waving his blue-and-silver banner back and forth. Everyone in the Bluefin booth leaped up in the water and cheered. Nia did too, since she was trying to be a good sport. Enjoy your Trials, Garun. You’ll never know how badly I wish it could be me.
Next to go by was the Mantaray contestant in an elegant tunic of dark and light gray. Nia’s parents, aunt, and uncle lost interest after that, their conversation becoming louder. Nia huddled in her chair, bored, hardly paying attention anymore.
Then there he was. Nia sat up so fast she floated off her chair as Cephan swam by. He turned on his side a moment, grinned and winked at her, and then swam on. Nia clapped her hands and nearly bobbed up and down. “He smiled at me!” she said softly. “He smiled at me!” She turned her head and saw that her parents were frowning at her.
Tyra leaned close to her. “Admire whomever you like, Nia,” she whispered. “But when it comes time for you to select a permanent mate, try to be serious about your choice.”
Nia crossed her arms over her chest and did not reply, worried she might say something to get herself in trouble as the anger built within her.
She endured silently through the rest of the parade. When it was finished, she tried to slip out the door.
“Where are you going, dear?” Tyra asked. “The party’s just about to begin.”
“I know,” Nia said. “I’m going to congratulate Garun on his fine showing while I still have a chance. Once the party gets going, I expect I won’t be able to get near him.”
“Well, send him to us when you find him!” Uncle Skiff cried.
“Yes, Uncle. I will.” Nia exchanged glances with Dyonis, but quickly glanced away when she saw the questioning look in his eyes. She decided to leave before he asked her any questions.
The whole arena would become one big party now—some claimed it was the Unnumbered Trial, since contestants were expected to participate. Those candidates who left the party to conserve their strength were thought to be slightly cheating.
Nearly the whole crowd of spectators was converging on the contestants’ area, so Nia was surrounded in a crush of other mermyds. Suddenly, there it was again . . . the itching in her brain, as if a Farworlder, or something like it, was trying to touch her thoughts. Nia looked around wildly, but there were no Farworlders in this throng.
Unnerved, Nia turned aside and fought her way out of the mass of mermyds, elbowing and kicking quite a few as she went. She didn’t care about the damage this might do to her already tarnished reputation. She just needed to find a quiet space to think. She found her way to an empty entrance tunnel and curled up next to the wall, holding her head.
Am I going crazy? My family is acting so strange! And why do I keep feeling this thing in my mind?
“Nia?”
She gasped and looked up. It was Cephan, peering into the tunnel. “Cephan!” She launched herself toward him, using just a little too much energy in her stroke. He caught her around the waist just as she was about to go by him.
“Hey!” he said, smiling. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment when he let go of her. It felt so perfect to have his arms around her. “Your family might see us here,” he warned. “I know someplace more private.” He brushed away a layer of sea moss and muck from the stone wall, revealing a door in the middle of the tunnel. He opened it and guided her in. They were in a long-unused storage space under the stands, another one of the accidental rooms created by the rebuilding of the arena. A lone discarded phosphor-globe provided the only light. With the door closed, the hubbub of the crowd seemed far away.
“How do you know about places like this?” Nia asked, gazing around her in amazement.
“We worker fellows all talk to one another. We let one another know the best places for . . . a shortcut or hiding stuff or . . . privacy.” He lo
oked down at her shyly, and Nia silently cursed the fact that she blushed so easily. “Now why were you in that tunnel all by yourself?” he asked.
Nia took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t tease me or laugh at me?” she said.
“I promise.”
“I’ve told you before, I think I can feel a Farworlder touching my mind—especially in the nursery. But lately I’ve been feeling something strange . . . it’s like a Farworlder’s mental touch, but different.”
“And you felt it just now, right before you went into the tunnel?”
“Yes. And the last time I was here at the arena, just before I left.”
“Wow.” He smiled.
“Oh, don’t tease me, please.”
“I’m not teasing. I believe you. I’m . . . astonished. You realize no mermyd has ever had that kind of power unjoined before?”
“Of course I know that. That’s why I don’t tell anyone.”
Cephan moved closer to her, so close she shivered. “This is wonderful,” he said. “You’re the most incredible mermyd.”
Nia’s face heated up, and she wondered whether Cephan would kiss her cheek again—or kiss her for real, finally!
“If only I knew who it was,” she said with a sigh. “It may be incredible, but I wish it would stop. I don’t know, perhaps it is from a Farworlder. But there can’t be any Farworlders in the arena, can there?”
“Of course there are,” Cephan said. “They’re watching the Trials just like everyone else. They’ve got secret chambers all over these stands. Didn’t you know?”
Nia pressed her lips together. “No. But that makes sense. Dyonis said his Farworlder was watching with others of his kind. And if the dolphins have dry rooms, of course the Farworlders can have their own special rooms.”
“There you are. Maybe that’s just more of the information we worker guys share. Not everyone would know that, I suppose.”
Nia frowned. “It must be Ar’an, then. He reached out to me when I visited my grandfather. And . . . I was very scared. It doesn’t seem to be a Farworlder, and it feels different from the way it did that night . . . but it must be him, right?” She sighed. None of this made sense. “But why would Ar’an do it again?” she asked, exasperated.