by Susha Golomb
“Wh...what?” Grandma Flora really caught Zazkal by surprise. He actually sputtered. Must be a first.
“Miriam has two months before she has to resume her outsea education. You will begin today and you will continue during her outsea educational breaks. You will continue until she has reached a B-level in magic practice, however long that takes. In order to maximize your time available for teaching, you may use Miriam’s sampo while she is with you for necessary supplies.”
“Hmphf!” Zazkal folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. Nothing special, just your basic scary, I’ll get you for this, glare. Oh my god, I thought. He knows.
“She’s smarter than she looks,” he said, still staring at me. Then, he looked around the room like he was trying to memorize every face. A group shudder passed through the crowd.
“But I still won’t do it,” he said, scowling at Grandma.
“You should have thought of that before you decided to become a serial kidnapper,” she answered, matching him scowl for scowl.
“You are not being given a choice in this matter. Other than exile and banishment, which you indeed may choose. Otherwise, it is our opinion that an apprenticeship will represent a period of probation for you and the effectiveness with which you educate your apprentice will be an excellent indicator of your ability to reenter the community.
“You’re telling me that my fitness as a Sky will be based entirely on the ability of this little twit, this...this submoronic pseudo-Sky to learn the skills that have taken me my whole life? I won’t–”
“Exactly,” Grandma said, cutting him off. “That is exactly what we are telling you.”
“Now I would like everyone else to leave,” Grandma said, “so that Mele’, Zazkal and I can discuss the details.”
The room was empty before she finished. Everyone wanted to be as far away as possible for the next part. Verona was behind me nudging me out the door.
“My job is to get you out of here before he blows up,” she whispered into my ear.
“Good idea. But I don’t need any help. I am going, going, gone.”
CHAPTER 33
THE LITTLE MEETING
Another day, another meeting. The next morning there was another meeting. A small one. Grandma and Grandpa, me and you know who. Not my idea of a fun way to start the day.
When I got there, the G’s were telling Zazkal my story about the weirdos with the boat. I winced. That was not my fault. Nobody told me about fishing nets.
Listen to them, I thought. They sound like old friends. Don’t they know they’re supposed to hate each other.
“I think I know the fish you mean,” Zazkal was saying.
“They weren’t fish,” Grandpa said. “Miriam said they were dirty-looking land people.”
“They have usually been fish when I have seen them. Common knowledge has it that they were originally humans, although I don’t give the story much credit.
“Apparently, at some point, they acquired, presumably dishonestly, the knack for changing shape, like your little granddaughter. They are disreputable and dangerous. They belong to no one but themselves and their only interest is in themselves.
“She was lucky to get away from them so easily. If the Hazmats are putting in an appearance in our part of the world, it would be wise to try and find out more about what they were doing.”
“From Miriam’s description,” Mele’ said, “it sounds like they finished whatever business they had and should be long gone.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Flora. “Remember those rumors we heard last month–”
“I’ll come back later when you’re finished,” I said, not trying to hide my resentment.
“Well, well. It’s my little koi,” Zazkal said, smiling when his remark had the expected effect on me. “It looks as if we will be together for a while after all.” The smile faded
“Your grandparents have promised me that you will be an excellent student, and I will accept nothing less. I’m extremely dubious about just how much help you will actually be able to provide me. At the very least, I expect you to not make it harder.”
“The first thing you will have to do is learn to read and write. I refuse to travel with an illiterate imbecile.” My ears perked up. Traveling was not something that fit in with my idea of what an apprentice did.
“I have been talking with your grandparents about the pirates you met. When you can read and write and when you have mastered a basic grasp of the principles of magic, I will consider exploring the subject a little further. It would be most interesting to see what those four are up to.”
“We’ll see,” Grandpa said.
CHAPTER 34
THE CHOOSING
Two days later, another meeting of the Grand Council was called. Verona had announced that she was ready for her Choosing Ceremony. She wouldn’t say a word about her decision to anyone and speculation was rampant. Everywhere I went, people were talking about Verona. I had the impression that bets were being laid on the outcome, although I had no idea what people here used for money. All of a sudden I could go places without being the center of attention and I liked it. I was feeling more like a real Sky by the day.
This time, the meeting was in the Great Hall. It was a festive occasion, so I dressed. With my hair in a ponytail, I put on Verona’s headpiece and ran the ribbons through the scrunchie so that they mixed in with my hair. The scrunchie was from my sampo and matched all the ribbon colors. Two more ribbon-colored scrunchies on my wrists and I was ready.
Beautiful as it was, the big necklace Verona made for me stayed home. It was too embarrassing. I was sort of okay with the topless thing, but I was not yet ready for anything that drew attention to my almost boobs. Bad enough that they were there at all.
There were a ton of people in the Great Hall, but it was nowhere near full. The guest list included the complete Council, Verona’s teachers, so many that they must have included her kindergarten teachers, and a half dozen Sky about Verona’s age who hung together in a tight group. They had to be friends. Surprise, Verona has friends. Everyone was in full party gear, so I was okay on that score.
I swam over to Grandma and Grandpa who were talking to another couple. The woman looked enough like Grandpa to be his daughter.
“Miriam,” Grandpa said. “Meet my baby sister Merle and her husband Pearl, Verona’s parents.”
“Hi.”
“We’re very glad to meet you, Miriam,” her father said.
“Did Verona tell you...?”
“She won’t say a word to us either,” Verona’s mother said. “Not even a hint. We’re just as much in the dark as everyone else.”
Verona floated in the water with her beaming parents on one side and all her teachers, including Grandma and Grandpa on the other. She faced the Council members and spoke in a loud ringing voice.
“Members of the Grand Council... I have chosen.” Everyone waited out the long pause Verona imposed on us.
“What I want to tell you is that there isn’t one thing I want to spend all my time on. Not if I have to give up all the other things I love learning and doing.” By now, everyone was holding their breath.
“So, I have chosen not to choose.” The silence turned to buzz, but Verona’s voice carried and everyone heard what she said next.
“There may never be something I want to spend all my time on, but if there is, I’ll do it when I’m ready, not when I’m supposed to be ready. This is my choice.”
“But, child...” her mother started to say. Verona smiled her most beautiful smile at her mom.
“I think it’s okay to be a little different,” she said, giving me a wink.
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THE FAIRY GIFTS
BOOK 3
ZAZKAL, OR
THE PEBBLE AND THE PIRATES
PART I
JOURNEY TO THE ABYSSMAL ZONE
CHAPTER 1
A LESS THAN WILLING SORCERER’S APPRENTICE
I wasn’t born wit
h a fish tail. It isn’t even a permanent arrangement but it means I could finally visit my adopted grandparents, formerly known as Grandma and Grandpa Mermaid. Who knew the stories my parents told me when I was little were true?
I was officially here on a summer visit -- my first -- with my grandparents but plans change. Sidetracked is probably a better way to describe it. I am now officially apprenticed to the rogue Sky, Zazkal.
The work/study thing was an add-on, meant to give me some basic life skills in magic and to give Zazkal some basic life skills, period. Since he hated being with other people, it was a sort of punishment for kidnapping me and my sampo. What he really wanted was the sampo, but since we can’t be separated, he was stuck with me too.
Zazkal was waiting for me when I arrived. He did not look happy to see me. No ‘hello’. No ‘how was your trip’? As soon as I showed up, he turned tail and I followed. He led me directly to his workshop, the largest of a series of interconnected natural openings inside the remote coral atoll where he lived and worked.
“Memorize the name and location of everything in this room. The least you can do is learn to fetch things when I am working.”
That was it. My entire first lesson. He swam off muttering under his breath about wasting time. I couldn’t decide whether to be offended or overwhelmed.
Every wall in the big room was covered with ceiling-high wicker chests of drawers. All the chests were bolted down and all the drawers were latched shut, not unlike the cabin of a ship, and for much the same reason, only they were under the water instead of on it.
I swam to the nearest wall and began pulling open one drawer after another. Every one of the unlabeled drawers must have contained a dozen or more jars and bottles of strange-looking stuff.
I decided to be overwhelmed.
Groaning, I floated limply to the floor. For a full five minutes, I sat there staring wide-eyed at the endless supply of supplies.
Finally, I took a deep breath, swam over to the nearest chest of drawers and got to work.
Three hours later, Zazkal was back with an armful of bright green seaweed. He dumped it on the big long-legged worktable in the middle of the room and started barking out orders.
“Get me pink sand, red algae and compound 221B.” Miraculously, I managed to find all three before he finished assembling an assortment of bowls and tools from a drawer in the worktable.
He slammed shut the drawer, started fiddling with the jars and rattled off his next list. I knew I was doomed even before he finished.
“Good. Now get me hydroxy-oxydoxy number 6, sea cucumbers...pelleted, not powdered, tincture of scalymoss and fractated coral shards in that exact order, and quickly”
I somehow managed to find the hydroxy-oxydoxy and the sea cucumbers but then I gave him the wrong kind of scalymoss and was now floating nervously in front of a cabinet that held at least twenty different kinds of coral, afraid to ask him which one he wanted. I floated just a little too long for Zazkal’s limited patience.
He blew up and threw the jar of algae, or maybe it was the pink sand. Who could tell? Zazkal threw the jar all the way across the room, no easy task underwater.
“Useless, useless, useless. You’re nothing but an undersized ten-year old with a mouth bigger than your brain. I refuse to have you hanging around, interfering with my work.”
I cracked.
“What is this? Education by intimidation?” I hollered back. “You’re supposed to be my teacher. Anyway, you can’t kick me out and I can leave whenever I want. I’m not your prisoner anymore.”
The first day was going much better than expected. Here we are...already on speaking terms.
“Allow me to remind you, Miss Miriam Mermelstein,” he said with quiet menace, “that taking on an assistant was not my idea.” The water around his head actually sizzled, he was that mad. Maybe I should tone it down a notch.
“It was your grandparents’ idea to make the punishment fit the crime and right now, the alternative of permanent exile is starting to look a lot more attractive.”
The truth was, Zazkal couldn’t care less about permanent exile, but he desperately wanted the use of my sampo and had already kidnapped me twice to get it. The sampo has a homing spell on it, so the only way to steal it is to steal me, too. My little drawstring bag can produce just about anything that will fit through its opening, in other words, an endless supply of the ingredients he needs for his research in deep-ocean magic.
For Zazkal, the only good kind of time is alone time. His reputation is that he’s the best magician and the worst-tempered fairy in the seven seas. My sampo not only gives him instant access to the rare and not so rare ingredients he needs for his work, but it effectively eliminates face time with all the people he normally has to be nice to if he wants to get his precious supplies.
“Zazkal,” I said, trying hard to speak in a more conciliatory tone, “I have learned an awful lot of these already, but I have no idea what any of the labels mean. It makes it a lot harder to remember. Half of my time with you is supposed to be as a student anyway. Couldn’t you use that time to teach me what all this stuff means? It would make it much easier to remember if it made sense. Besides, once I understood more, I could just take things out of my sampo for you. Isn’t that why I’m here?” I swallowed hard, nervously waiting for him to speak.
Fixing me with one of his now familiar icy glares, he finally spoke.
“All right, Miriam,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can see it will be some time before you will be any good as an assistant. Besides,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at me, “it’s unthinkable for me to spend my time with an illiterate.”
“I read all the labels on your stupid jars. I am not illiterate.” Most...of the labels would have been more accurate, but I thought I was doing pretty well, since I had only just learned to read Sky, as these air- and water-breathing sea-fairies called themselves. Even in my mind, I was careful to say Sky and not use the ‘M’ word
“Well, I can see there’s no help for it,” he said acidly. “We’ll spend the rest of the morning reviewing the contents of some of my inventory, and this afternoon, I will begin teaching you to write.”
“What a waste of time!” he muttered, loud enough for me to hear, adding a dirty look to make sure I got the point.
Anyone with an ounce of sense, I thought, pressing my lips together to keep the words inside, would have realized that if you are going to have an assistant, someone has to spend time training her. Any normal person would have planned for it.
Still... Writing underwater required magic. This would be the first real magic I would learn.
I kept my mouth shut and listened, trying not to ask questions, while Zazkal began to explain the system he used to organize his supplies. As time passed, he began to warm to his subject. He may not have been very agreeable on most things, but when the topic was magic, and the listener was clearly interested, he became enthusiastic and articulate.
He’ll be a pretty good teacher, I thought with some relief. At least, as long as I pay attention and don’t ask dumb questions.
CHAPTER 2
POWER PEBBLES
Once I learned what and where everything was, Zazkal gradually reduced his conversation back to grunted instructions. My mornings were spent watching quietly while he worked. I floated close by, trying to figure out what was going on and ready to fetch, return and clean up as requested. I had lots of questions, but not enough nerve to interrupt.
Still, it would be a long time before the excitement of being a ‘sorcerer’s apprentice’ would wear off. Watching magic happen was very different from the way I used my three fairy gifts, which worked more or less on their own.
The sampo that Zazkal so coveted was a birthday present from fairy friends of the family. There was also a pair of grafted on wings and a coat that made me invisible, all intended to help a traveling ten-year old get safely to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
Their house w
asn’t over the river and through the woods, but in an ancient coral-reef makeover, now known as Casalot, a combination community center and high-rise apartment building.
Of course, there was also the family fish scale. Grandma gave it to Mom and Mom gave it to me providing me with the necessary magic to let me make the switch from legs to fish-tail, making the whole trip possible.
My afternoons, on the other hand, turned out to be pretty boring. Writing insea used a spell to bypass hands and send the words directly from the brain to the stuff they used for paper. It took me less than ten minutes to learn the spell that activated the writing process. Actually being able to do it was different.
While Zazkal played with my sampo, my time was spent in tedious, repetitive practice with improvements coming in very small increments.
After the first three days, I could not understand why both Zazkal and my grandparents insisted on me spending so much time learning to write. What for? So I could label Zazkal’s bottles? Doesn’t that sound like fun? I only had six weeks before I had to go home for school in September. Shouldn’t I be learning more important things?
Meanwhile, I began to notice some basic distinctions in the kind of work he was doing during my fetch and clean workshop mornings, and one day I commented innocently how like cooking much of his activity was.
“What do you mean `cooking’?” he said, lifting his eyebrows and stopping his work to look at me. “Be explicit.”
“It just seemed to me,” I answered, “that the formula you use to mix your ingredients is like a recipe. Then, instead of applying heat to make things change, like we do on the land–” he grimaced. “I mean outsea,” I quickly corrected myself, “–you repeat another magic formula. That incantation is your `cooking fire’.”
Zazkal smiled. Not a very big smile mind you, and only slightly marred by the arch in his brows, but a smile nevertheless.
“Cooking, Cultivating, and Concentrating. Most magic,” he said, “is generally accomplished by one or more of these three basic methods, usually a combination.”