by Kara Dalkey
“Until tomorrow,” Cephan said, clearly reluctant to let go of her hands.
Nia smiled and went back inside, finding herself much more cheerful through the rest of Garun’s party.
The following morning, Nia happily joined the procession that began at the door of the Bluefin Palace. All of Atlantis lined the streets and byways between there and the Farworlder Palace to show respect for the new Avatar-to-be. Garun sat on a palanquin made of carved, gilded hardwood that had come from a land-dweller sunken ship of ages past. It would be carried by six mermyds and towed by four dolphins. On Garun’s lap, in an opalescent nautilus shell, sat the infant Farworlder prince to whom Garun would be mentally joined during the Naming. Nia had tried, on a whim, to send a mental Congratulations to the Farworlder infant, but she had no idea whether the message was received. She did sense that the poor little creature was nervous. Well, who wouldn’t be, with such a crowd around it?
Nia was permitted to swim behind Garun’s palanquin wearing her Nursery Guard bandolier, as part of the Bluefin Clan honor guard. She was able to wear a big smile as well, no longer upset by Garun’s ill-gotten victory. She had something far more precious—Cephan’s love. And it would all be worthwhile when she saw her parents’ faces when she later escorted Cephan into the Naming ceremony.
Farther back in the procession were palanquins carrying the Avatars and their Farworlder kings. The Avatars sat motionless, their eyes closed, concentrating their mental energies on protecting Garun and the prince, and perhaps already working changes on Garun’s blood so that he would not die when receiving the toxic fluids from the Farworlder prince during the Naming. Nia could sense pressure waves in the water around Garun’s palanquin, making her skin tingle.
Dyonis was positioned at the front of Garun’s palanquin, carrying the Sword of Peace, Eikis Calli Werr. It struck Nia how he’d had the sword out before any of them had known a member of their clan would be chosen. How had she not put it all together then? Dyonis had brought the sword out because he’d known he would need it for the Ascension.
The procession surged forward, moving slowly. Atlanteans on balconies overhead dropped silver fish scales, so that the water glittered and shimmered. Shell horns sounded, and mermyds sang and cheered.
For nearly an hour, the procession wound through the city. At last they came to the enormous double doors of the Farworlder Palace Great Hall. They were made of volcanic pumice stone, ribbed with whalebone ivory and studded with gold. The doors swung slowly inward, and the procession, all those who were permitted, entered.
Nia had never been in this part of the Farworlder Palace, as the Great Hall was reserved entirely for major events of state. During the days before the Sinking, this was where land-dwelling kings, emperors, and ambassadors would be received and entertained. She’d heard many stories of the strange, silvery metals found on the walls and floors here, remnants from the Farworlders’ spaceship that had long ago landed in Atlantis. She was amazed to see for herself that the metals—synthetic substances from the Farworlders’ original home—truly hadn’t rusted or corroded over the years. Down the center of the floor of the enormous hall was a rectangular depression that had been a reflecting pool. Now it contained, at the far northern end, a throne of polished black basalt. In front of the throne was a pillar with a depression in the top, the right size to hold the shell of the Farworlder prince.
The hall was two stories high with a flat ceiling. Marble pillars decorated with inscriptions of the Farworlder language divided the sides of the hall. It was said that the inscriptions were part of a sacred book of the Farworlders, either containing their history, or a treatise on how to use their magical powers, or a description of how to find their homeworld in the vastness of the Greater Ocean beyond Earth, depending on who was telling the story.
There was a second gallery overlooking the Great Hall, faced with a row of smaller pillars and arches. Up into this gallery swam the High and Low Councils—the mermyds resting themselves on kelp rope cradles, the Farworlder kings floating above or behind them. Nia’s gaze drifted to the retiring Avatar and king, and she wondered how this ceremony felt for them—knowing that it would be their last as Council members.
The clans of all the Low Council were represented, as well as all of the Bluefins. They swam, slow and orderly, into the Great Hall in near silence. If anyone spoke it was in low voices—others merely signed at one another. It gave a majestic feel to the occasion, and even Nia, despite her new cynicism, could not help but feel a little awe.
Rope lattices hung around the periphery of the Great Hall, and onto these the assembled nobility of Atlantis arranged themselves. The Bluefins would be reclining at the north end, nearest the throne where Garun would be sitting. Also, to Nia’s relief, nearest a door by which she could make a quick exit to head down to the servants’ entrance. Nia found a position on the rope lattice toward the back. Fortunately, her parents were expected by tradition to be at the front along with Garun’s parents, and therefore they would not be able to keep an eye on her.
Garun’s palanquin was set down beside the black stone throne. Garun’s eyes were closed in deep concentration, his hands clasped tightly in front of his face. Two of the young Bluefin cousins picked him up off the palanquin and set him on the throne.
The Farworlder’s shell was nestled into the depression in the column. Little pink tentacles waved slowly out of the shell. Poor thing, Nia thought. It’s poisoned. For the past twenty-four hours, the Farworlder prince had been coaxing its body to make the toxin for the joining. The creature would have to release the toxin soon, by injecting the oculus secretion into Garun’s palm, or else it would die. Nia wistfully wished she had given the little alien prince a name, but that was not her right to do. Garun must give him a name now.
The palanquins and other trappings of the procession were cleared away. The last of the processioners arranged themselves on the rope lattice. Dyonis swam slowly down the reflecting pool, still holding the Sword of Peace. He stopped before the pillar on which the Farworlder prince lay.
“Welcome, all, on this day of rejoicing,” Dyonis boomed out. “For it is on this day that renewal comes to the leadership of Atlantis. It is on this day that a mermyd chosen of the best that Atlantis has bred shall Ascend to become an Avatar, and a new king, chosen as the best of its kind by the High Council, shall be Named. These two will be joined and take their place among the Councils of Atlantis to lead us into a new age, informed by their wisdom, their honesty, and their youthful enthusiasm.
“Garun of the Bluefin, are you prepared?”
“I am.” His voice was thin, and Nia thought she detected a hint of fear. Be strong, Garun, she willed him. You can do this.
Dyonis turned to look up at the gallery. “Is the prince prepared?”
“It is,” the Low Council chanted back as one voice.
“Then let it begin.” Dyonis raised the sword above his head.
The Low Council of mermyds in the gallery began chanting a low drone on a single note. The water in the Hall vibrated with the sound, and Nia’s skin hummed and tingled. Soon Garun and the prince were bathed in an unnatural, golden-green magical light—the combined power of the two Councils focused entirely on them.
It would take nearly an hour for the Councils to change the blood of Garun and the prince enough so that the oculus toxin could be tolerated and shared.
I must go get Cephan now, while everyone is distracted, Nia thought. But it was difficult to leave the sight of Garun suffused with the golden green light. With an effort of will, she detached herself from the rope lattice. She swam down behind it, along the wall of the Great Hall, until she reached the small side door.
Her skin still shuddered from the drone and the energy, and her body was sending her signals that something was wrong. Her heart was racing, and she was finding it difficult to get sufficient oxygen through her gills. But then, she had never been in the presence of so much magical power before. I am sure the Councils know
what they are doing.
As quietly as possible, Nia opened the little side door. It led into a narrow corridor and a long flight of steps that went down. It showed the age of the Great Hall that the land-dweller stairs still existed as part of the building. Nia swam down and down, unable to shake the strange feeling. She was getting a little sleepy too.
The flight of steps ended at a large, bare room that showed signs of having been used recently for storage, although the mosaic floor hinted that it had been originally intended for grander purposes. It seemed to Nia to take forever to swim across it to the north door at the other side. Why am I so weary? she wondered.
Nia slid back the wood bolt from the door and pushed down on the golden latch. The door swung open, and cool water drifted in. There was a dim tunnel beyond, the stone overgrown with seamoss. No one was there.
Nia swam out through the doorway just a little. Am I too early? Was he not able to get here? Did some pushy Orca stop him? Should I wait for him? How long? She really didn’t want to miss much more of the ceremony.
The water seemed deathly still and cold. Nia’s skin started to creep. She was about to turn back and go inside when a dark shape entered the tunnel ahead.
“Cephan?”
“Not exactly, my dear.”
Nia froze. It was Ma’el.
Chapter Fifteen
“A pleasure to meet you again, Lady Niniane,” Ma’el said. “Of course, you remember my companion, Joab?” An ink-black shadow with eyes and tentacles loomed up behind Ma’el.
“Where is Cephan?” Nia demanded.
“Attending to other business, I believe. May we enter?”
Weary and anxious and frightened as she was, Nia still knew her duty. Even though she had guarded only the Royal Nursery, she was still a palace guard by training. Extending her arms and legs to block the doorway, she said, “You may not pass.”
“Ah. I regret that we must be forced into rudeness. Joab?”
The Farworlder flowed forward, wrapping its tentacles around Nia’s arms, legs, and torso. Its tentacles were strong enough to crack her bones if it chose. She felt its hard, sharp beak pressed against her stomach—not doing damage, but in a threat that it could. With hardly any effort at all, Joab detached Nia from the doorway and pushed her inside.
Ma’el swam after, closing the door behind him and throwing the bolt across it. He was idly turning a crank on a strange mechanism strapped to his chest.
Nia started to see black spots before her eyes, and her gills were stretching and fluttering, trying to find oxygen. “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked.
“What I have to do,” he said tightly. “I am righting a great wrong.”
“You . . . you were . . . interfering with the Trials!” she cried, wondering whether her guess had been wrong after all and this had all been Ma’el’s work somehow.
“I? Oh, no, that was mostly the Council’s doing,” he replied, sending her heart sinking again. “Although I tried my level best to help my chosen candidate, I was outdone. Thus I am forced to implement my backup plan.” He swam over to her and looked her right in the eye.
Nia shivered. “Backup plan?” she echoed.
“Did we not say great things would come of you, Niniane?” he asked, his voice low. “Did we not say you were the knife?”
“You’re wrong!” Nia growled. “I would never do anything to bring harm to Atlantis or my family!”
“Your family,” Ma’el said, then chuckled. “Do you really know who your family is, Niniane?”
Struggling against her fading strength, Nia said through gritted teeth, “My father . . . is Pontus of the Bluefins. My mother . . . is Tyra, born of the Seabass. My grandfather is Dyonis . . . of the Bluefins.”
Ma’el shook his head. “I’m sure that’s what they wanted you to believe all these years.”
Nia felt another chill pass through her. “You’re lying,” she said. “Whose child would I be if not theirs?”
Ma’el sighed. “We had such dreams, long ago, Dyonis and I. We were so idealistic. His idealism took a different shape than mine. He wanted peace with the land-dwellers. I knew that would never succeed. Nonetheless, when our hunters brought in a woman they had rescued who had fallen off a sinking ship, Dyonis was quite taken with her. He decided to make his peace-making personal. Alas, she did not thrive, and she died soon after the child of their union was born. That child was you.”
Nia blinked, unable to believe what Ma’el was saying. “Dyonis is my father?” she said.
“It was a not very well-kept secret in the Councils, but for Dyonis’s sake, it was not bandied about. You were given to Pontus and Tyra for adoption, and no more was said about it.”
Nia thought for a long moment. Dyonis had always been interested in her, patient and caring. Closer than most grandfathers-who-are-Avatars would be. But why was she even listening to this? Ma’el was a criminal. He was lying to her, of course.
“Why are you telling me these things?” she demanded. “Even if it’s true, then why do you care?”
“Because, my dear, as Dyonis’s best friend at the time, I had to give you a suitable birthing gift. One even Dyonis himself would never have had the courage to give you. I couldn’t help tinkering. I put a tiny bit of oculus in you. Right there.” He tapped her forehead. “That is why you have the powers you do. That is why you are special. In a way, I am your father too.”
“No!” Nia cried. She tried to struggle, but Joab’s grip tightened, making it even harder for her to breathe. It was all real now, impossible to deny. This was why she had those special powers, the ones no one ever believed in. It was why she could feel the Farworlders’ touch, and why she’d been sick from Dyonis’s use of magic during the Trials.
The distant droning of the Councils had dwindled away. The water was now very still, very silent, very cold.
Ma’el’s expression darkened. “It’s time,” he said, his tone serious. “I wish we could have . . . I wish this could have been different.” He gestured at Joab, and the Farworlder released her.
As they swam away, Nia wanted to chase them, but she had no energy left. She could not move. Her gills fluttered but drew in no oxygen. The room darkened before her eyes, and she drifted into unconsciousness.
Nia was shaken awake, hearing Cephan’s voice by her ear. “Nia! Nia! Are you all right?”
She felt water moving past her gills, and she sucked in the freshened water for a while before speaking. “Cephan? Cephan!”
“Oh, thank the gods!” Cephan cried. “Here, put this on.” He slipped a collar of tubes made from perforated kelp stalks around her neck and strapped a box around her torso. “Here, turn this crank. It will help you breathe.” He placed her hand on the mechanism.
“What is it?” she asked weakly.
“Turn the crank. It moves a set of paddles that push water through the tubes and past your gills. It’s emergency equipment in the Lower Depths. All the filtration tubes and oxygenation tunnels have been shut down. The water in Atlantis is still.”
Nia knew the danger of still water to a mermyd. “Everyone will suffocate and die!”
“Not everyone. Some of us have these, and we can escape.”
“We can’t just run away!” Nia protested. “We’ve got to stop Ma’el. How did he get out of his cell?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t his guardian anymore, once I became involved in the Trials. I don’t know who replaced me. Nia, he’s stronger than either of us. There’s nothing we can do against him.”
“But he’s not stronger than the Council. We have to go see if they’re all right. And Garun. And the prince. And my—oh, come on, Cephan!” Terrified at what she might find, Nia swam back up the stairwell, up toward the Great Hall. She had to turn the crank on her chest frantically to get enough air.
“Nia, be careful!” Cephan shouted behind her.
She shoved open the little door at the top of the stairs. It was still silent in the Great Hall, and there was a taste of
blood on the water.
Mermyds drifted, asleep and unconscious. Up above, at the ceiling near the gallery, the Farworlder kings of the High Council drifted, spears through their bodies, dead.
Nia wanted to scream, but she held back and steeled herself for what she must do. She swam slowly behind the rope lattice, watching for Ma’el or Joab. But who killed the kings? Who shut down the water flow? Ma’el has help, but from whom?
When she saw her mother drifting in the lattice, Nia could not stop herself. She swam to Tyra and shook her. “Mother, wake up! Are you all right?” But her mother didn’t stir. Nia tried placing the collar of her bubbler near her mother’s gills, and she turned the crank. But Tyra didn’t move.
Nia felt the tickle in the back of her mind again. But this time it grew into full contact. Nia. Garun lives. Find us. We are behind the wall hangings.
Not pausing to consider how this was possible, Nia swam to the tall weighted tapestries at the east end of the Great Hall. Cephan joined her, and together they pulled aside one of the tapestries that covered an alcove. Garun, the princeling, Dyonis, and Ar’an were huddled all together. Dyonis and Ar’an were using their magic to keep the water moving around them. Garun, while alive, was looking very green. The Farworlder prince was tucked tightly in its shell. Dyonis’s Sword of Peace had dark bloodstains on the blade, steadily fading as the water washed them away.
“What luck!” Cephan said. “We have to get them to safety.” Cephan reached for the Farworlder’s shell, but Garun pulled it close to his chest.
“The Naming . . .” Garun rasped, “is not finished. We must complete the Naming.”
Or he and the prince will die, Nia thought. “Where can we take them?” she asked.
Cephan thought a moment. “There’s a filtration tube not far from that north servants’ entrance. There will be some water flow in there from Outside, so the old man won’t have to concentrate on moving water.”
“Isn’t that a rather dangerous place to hide?” Dyonis asked, frowning at Cephan. He shifted in place, and Nia tasted blood on the water again. Dyonis had been wounded, she realized with a sick feeling.