“I’ll do it,” he said timidly, “but are you sure we should do it tonight? I have practice tomorrow and I should probably get some rest…”
“Yes, tonight!” she insisted. “Besides, you’re swift and strong—easily the best athlete in your sport and age group in Adlivun.”
“I don’t want to be the best in Adlivun. I want to qualify for the Olympics!” he protested.
“You will. I’ll help you train and be there to cheer you on,” she promised. “Please, Glais? I never ask you for anything. This is really important to me.”
He nodded in defeat. “Fine. Are you sure you trust me? It’s going to hurt. A lot.”
“I don’t care about pain,” Varia boasted.
“But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You hurt me all the time when we’re sparring. What’s the difference?” she asked irritably.
“Varia, you’re a princess. Eventually, someone’s going to find out. They’ll know it was me. Your father is going to tear me into a million pieces and then roast those pieces as prime rib and sirloin steak on his barbeque…”
“For Sedna’s sake!” she shouted. “I want a tattoo just like yours. Are you going to give it to me or not? Because if you won’t, I’ll find someone who will!”
His shoulders sagged in surrender. Glais lifted a hand absentmindedly to touch his own tattoo, the triple-moon of Adlivun that he had inked on his neck. It was in precisely the same spot as his father’s tattoo; as his memories of the man had faded, he often found his thoughts dwelling on that symbol, and had decided to get a matching one to honor Bain’s memory. He wanted to think of his father every time he looked in the mirror; he wanted to be more like him. His art instructor had mentioned the traditional Japanese method of using bamboo needles to create a tattoo. Some of his Ningyo friends in Adlivun knew the irezumi method and had been willing to teach him. He had not anticipated that the stubborn princess would become obsessed with his body-art, constantly touching his neck and begging him for one of her own.
He had difficulty refusing Varia anything she wanted.
“Maybe it would be better if someone else did it,” he told her, although the thought gave him a slight nip of jealousy. “I’m not the greatest artist. There are people in Adlivun who have been practicing for hundreds of years! I have only ever done this one tattoo on myself.”
“I have seen you draw on the skin of your friends,” she argued. “That one time you gave Kaito a dragon tattoo.”
“In ballpoint pen! For Halloween! With his mother’s permission!”
“Oh, Glais,” Varia said with a sigh. “You are such a good boy. It’s so disappointing.” She moved over to his bed and pulled her shirt off before tossing herself onto the duvet. She pointed at her back. “Come on. It’ll be awesome! I give you artistic liberty to make it as fancy as you want.”
“Okay, Vari,” he said with a deep sigh. “Have you considered how this might limit your acting?”
“Lots of famous actresses have tattoos,” she argued. “Most of my theater work is in period costume anyway. I won’t have to appear semi-nude unless it’s for movies or TV, and then they can just use makeup or editing. Besides, it’s not like I’ll get to act much once I have to help run the country. See? I have thought about this.”
“Okay,” he said meekly. “Do you really want the Adluvian triple moon?”
“Yeah,” Varia said, resting her cheek on the pillow. “People say that the ocean isn’t constant, but it is. The tides are always changing in response to the moon. People say that the moon isn’t constant, but it is. It’s only our perception of it that changes. I love the triple moon symbol and what it signifies. The maiden, the mother, the crone. How could I ever grow out of something that represents life as a cycle from birth to death? I would still want this tattoo, even if it wasn’t the symbol on the flag of the nation of which I am a princess. But it is.”
Glais nodded, moving over to his desk to get his supplies. “I hope you like it, Varia. I’ll do my best.”
When she felt the warmth of his hands against her cold skin, she closed her eyes. The soothing touch was soon followed by the jagged prick of sharpened bamboo. Somehow, this still had a calming effect on her nerves. She wondered if her mother would be angry. Nonetheless, she knew that she needed to do this for herself. It was an act of patriotism, cementing her commitment to her country and to herself as an adult. She needed to get this tattoo to prove to herself that she was ready to make important decisions that would affect people, or possibly scar them for the rest of their lives. She needed to remind herself that some consequences were permanent and inescapable.
The traditional needle bored into her flesh. Again and again, she felt it pierce and jab. She could tell that even though Glais was emotionally hesitant, his hands were firm and true. He was supremely skilled with a paintbrush, skilled at fencing with a saber, and skilled at this combination of the two. She wondered if she was the first modern princess to ever get a tattoo of her country’s symbol. Excitement flooded her chest with every puncture. She felt the bamboo blade lift from her skin.
“God, Varia. I can’t do this. What if I screw up?”
She opened her eyes, glancing over her shoulder to send him a smile. Glais was only 18, and still unsure of himself in many ways. But she was sure of him; all the marks he had left on her person up until this point had been positive. She trusted him implicitly. “Don’t worry,” she told him, reaching out to squeeze his knee. “I have always loved your art.”
Chapter 2: Passage of Power
Warm waves lapped at two bare feet which were half-sunken into the sand. The salty air skimmed over a woman’s thoughtful face, brushing back her short, straight red hair. Allowing her eyes to dart to the side cautiously, she crouched down to the ground, balancing her whole weight on the balls of her feet. She reached forward to gather a handful of white sand, and watched as it trickled through her fingers. “I hate this place,” she said to herself, rubbing her hands together to brush the sand away. She lifted a few fingers to shove her hair back behind her ears, but was surprised to find that the tamed and fashionable hairstyle had somehow maintained its order in the sea breeze. Noticing a swift motion out of the corner of her eye, she swiveled and turned just in time to catch a cannonball that had launched itself into her chest.
“Mama!” shouted her pint-sized attacker frantically. “Ivory stole my shovel and she won’t give it back!”
“For Sedna’s sake,” Visola exclaimed, grasping the little boy’s shoulders with her sandy palms. “That shovel rightfully belongs to you, Ronan. Don’t let your sister bully you! Go and take it back with brute force!”
He looked up at her with confusion in his watery green eyes. “I already asked nicely. Three times.” The toddler held up the same number of digits to emphasize this point.
“Sometimes in life we can’t just ask nicely for the things we deserve. You have to demand fairness and speak on behalf of your honor. If words don’t work, you need to put up your dukes and take what you require by any means necessary.” Visola looked at him seriously before giving his shoulders a little shake. “Do you understand me, Ronan?”
He nodded quickly, before wiping the back of his hand over his nose and sniffling. “But Mama,” he complained, “she put her foot in my sandcastle.”
Visola stood up and slammed her hands against her hipbones as she looked over his head to the little girl that was innocently sitting a few feet away. “Ivory Ramaris! Did you wreck your brother’s sandcastle?”
“Yes, ma’am!” the little girl said, standing up at attention. She had seen many others speak this way to her mother, and she thought it was proper and fitting. “I led a great siege to conquer his kingdom and used my foot as a battering ram. Daddy always says ‘to the victor go the spoils’ and the only thing Ronan had was a shovel. So I took it.”
A smile tugged at Visola’s lips. “That’s my girl.” She lowered her chin to observe her distraught son, and sighed dismally as
she placed a hand in his pale red hair. “Look, Ro-Ro—she captured your kingdom and pillaged your resources fair and square. You have two options now. You can attack her and try to get your stuff back, or you can build a new castle—a stronger fortress on a defensible site, which you will protect from her future advances.”
“But how can I build a new castle without my shovel?” he asked, almost at the point of tears.
“With the strength of your bare hands!” Visola said cheerfully. She leaned down to whisper to him in a conspiratorial tone. “This time, if you notice the enemy approaching, be prepared to do battle and guard your home and treasures. Protect them at all costs!”
He nodded nervously, as though overwhelmed by the high stakes of sandcastle-warfare. “Yes, Mama.”
Visola heard the roar of an engine in the distance and her head turned sharply to look at the sea. She shielded her eyes and squinted until she could make out the growing shadow of an amphibious aircraft landing on the water. Her body tensed up as her hand moved to her back to retrieve her rifle. When her fingers closed around air instead of a metal barrel, she swore softly. Upon realizing she had cursed in front of her children, she cursed again. Moving over to her daughter’s Dora the Explorer backpack, she tore open the lining to retrieve binoculars and an automatic handgun.
“Mom!” Ivory complained in horror. “You ripped Dora in half!”
“Sorry, sweetie,” Visola said as she shoved the binoculars against her face. “I’ll get you a new one. Looks like a friendly plane. Seems like a friendly plane. Not taking any chances.” She flipped the safety off on her gun and lowered herself to one knee. “Get behind me, kids.”
Ivory and Ronan obediently followed these instructions as Visola aimed her weapon at the approaching craft. Once the plane had come to a standstill, not too far away on the beach, a solitary figure exited the cabin. Visola immediately recognized the figure, but waited until the woman waved and started to approach before she lowered her weapon.
“Zuri! You’re early!” Visola called out, shoving the gun into the back of her belt. She turned to her kids, waving them away. “You rascals can keep playing for a little while longer.”
Aazuria laughed as she approached her friend, her boots splashing through the shallow water. “Viso? It’s been so long! I barely recognize you with short hair—and no armor!”
The redhead gave her friend a little smirk. “Please.” She reached up and pulled aside the shoulder of her dress to reveal a lightweight bulletproof vest that covered her vitals while remaining discreet as undergarments.
Aazuria chuckled as she squeezed her friend in an enthusiastic hug. “I’ll bet the twins are suited up too?”
“You know me,” Visola admitted as she returned the hug. “Their diapers were made of Kevlar.”
“Sometimes it feels like you’re wishing for war,” Aazuria said fondly. “I suppose the Minister of Defense post would be pointless unless the Oceanic populations needed some defending.”
Visola pulled her lips into a grim smile. “Cool job title aside, I’m not wishing for it. I’m really not, Zuri. I just sense it coming.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like Trevain!” Aazuria shook her head. “I swear, that man hears the drums of war in every splash of water on the shore.”
“And has he ever been wrong about something like this? He’s a wise boy. Gets it from his grandma, no doubt.”
“He’s been wrong about a lot of things,” Aazuria said softly as she glanced around her friend to the kids who were playing a few feet away. “Hi, Ronan! Ivory! How are you two?”
“Fine, Auntie Zuri!” the little red-haired girl answered cheerfully, waving her stolen shovel.
“She smashed my castle with her foot,” Ronan said in a grumpy tone. “She’s evil and you should put her in prison forever.”
Aazuria raised her eyebrows in amusement. “I see they’re getting along splendidly as usual.”
“She spends every second of the day abusing him,” Visola said in a hushed whisper, “and he’s so sensitive that he just mopes around bemoaning the unfairness of it all. He refuses to fight back. I’m pretty sure Sio switched him with some other kid at the hospital because there’s no way something so harmless came out of my body.”
With a comforting smile, Aazuria placed her hand on Visola’s shoulder. “Give him a few years to come into his Ramaris roots. When he’s seven feet tall and they’re calling him Ronan the Barbarian, you’ll be longing for the days when he got emotional over a sandcastle.”
“I suppose so,” Visola said with a grin, “maybe he’s a late bloomer—but if he ends up being a fearsome barbarian, I shudder to think at what Ivory will be like.”
“She’ll be like you, of course.”
“That’s a terrifying thought. I hope Oceanus will be big enough for the both of us,” Visola joked. “So, Panda Bear, why the heck are you here so early? I wasn’t expecting you to arrive until tomorrow and I nearly shot you. A message would have been nice.”
“Things went really smoothly in Atlantis. Even smoother in Florida. I thought I’d come check out the progress here in Bimini and try to get some rest before we head home. Anything special to report?”
Visola shook her head and made a face. “Well, for starters, I hate this place. I always have. I expected that after five years of having Vachlan invest his money in rebuilding the ruins, we would have achieved a little more than creating a slightly bigger scrapheap.”
“You are exaggerating, my friend. The Caribbean is livable and safe again for mermaids, and that’s a big improvement. You’re comparing this new Bimini to the great walled fortress that we used to know; the one that still exists in your mind. That city is gone, but we’ll make something even better before long.”
“I hope so,” Visola said skeptically. “Vachlan says that we need a base here, and that’s why he’s investing the money. He says that it makes strategic sense to increase our presence in the Bermuda Triangle. But I suspect that he’s doing it because the place has sentimental value for him. This was where he spent a large portion of his youth; where he learned he was a sea-dweller, and learned to fight.”
“Honey,” said Aazuria. “When have you ever known Vachlan to be sentimental?”
Visola stuck a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the twins. “Since he impregnated me and stuck around to see the results.”
Aazuria could not help laughing at this. “Fair enough. It is rewarding to see how a man is affected by his relationship with his children. Trevain tries so hard to make everything perfect for Varia; a little too hard, maybe.”
“Speaking of which!” Visola said sharply. “Will you ever stop avoiding the poor man?”
“I’d prefer not to discuss my relationship with Trevain or lack thereof,” Aazuria said evenly. “Shall we go down to Bimini and get situated? I really need some rest. I’ll be working on the flight home to Adlivun—I’m only there for meetings over the weekend, then it’s over to Africa to check on the Mami Wata and our Somalian pirate friends.”
“Zuri, I’m your oldest friend. If you think you can avoid the subject—”
“I’m tired, Visola. I spent a week in Atlantis.”
Visola grimaced. “If you think I’m going to cut you some slack because of—”
“Do you remember what Atlantis was like? The Vegas of the ocean floor. There’s only so much of it you can take.” Aazuria lifted her hands to knead her eyebrows. “When we said we were opening immigration for Atlantis, we instantly had millions of skilled workers from all over the surface world who wanted to help rebuild the ruins and call the place home. We were drowning in applications. Can you imagine that?”
“Millions?” Visola said in wonder. “Are you serious? Millions?”
“It’s going to be our new metropolis in the Mediterranean,” Aazuria said proudly. “I think the newest statistic said that a minimum of 1% of the global population has the natural latent ability to breathe underwater. It’s as high as 3% in some reg
ions. This came about as a result of interbreeding with our people in coastal regions for thousands of years—but in the past fifteen years or so, since we went public, there has been a huge baby boom in all Oceanic and coastal regions. Those numbers are rapidly shifting in our favor. Beyond that, those who can afford Sionna’s serum can artificially live downstairs if they choose—and those who can’t afford it will just use oxygen tanks.”
Visola shook her head in disbelief. “I just don’t understand. Why the hell would land-dwellers want to live in Atlantis of all places?”
“A name can be pretty powerful,” Aazuria explained, “and this is the only one they know. Can you believe that? Apparently the myths make Atlantis out to be some glorious haven for intellectuals and scholars. Some legends even say the city was ‘technologically advanced.’”
Visola snorted. “Yeah, casinos and brothels is more like it. Gambling addicts and crack who—” She glanced over at her kids before lowering her voice. “—wholesale goods.”
Aazuria nodded and shrugged. “If the land-dwellers have decided that Atlantis is going to be returned to its former ‘splendor’ then I can’t stop them. Apparently, there is something unspeakably ‘cool’ about relocating to Atlantis. They’re quite stubborn.”
“Who cares, Zuri? They’re paying their taxes to the Crown of Adlivun. Let them do as they wish. You don’t have to try so hard to be present everywhere a droplet of water falls in the world, just because we’re now in charge of Oceanus. If the land-dwellers want to swarm one of our cities like ants, just delegate more of your trusted council members to take leadership roles, and spend time at home with your family. You don’t have to supervise the rebuilding of Atlantis—didn’t you put Callder and Brynne in charge of that?” Visola gave her friend a playful shove. “Come on, there’s no reason for you to be tired or overworked anymore. Let’s enjoy this moment in time, while it lasts. The world is filled with great cities and some not-so-great cities. You don’t have to visit the Ningyo once a month—Empress Amabie, her daughter, and my sister are there taking care of things. You don’t have to come here and supervise the rebuilding of Bimini, because you have me and Vachlan to do that for you. So quit traveling all over the godforsaken planet just to avoid your husband!”
Tides of Tranquility Page 2
