The Merman's Mark

by Tara Omar

  “Fine,” said Saladin, nodding. “We shall wait.”

  “You know you prefer me this way,” said Imaan, looking out to the field.

  “No, I really don’t,” said Saladin.

  “Yes, you do,” she Imaan. “I am kinder to you in my harshness; if I was affable your flaws would glare at you like a gem held to the light. You would have destroyed the Temple long ago.”

  “You really are paranoid, aren’t you?” asked Saladin.

  Imaan took a step toward him.

  “Do you think you can make yourself brighter by finding fault in me, and appease your conscience by vetting how I am, when I am not yours to worry about? You are no more than a shadow that curses darkness,” said Imaan.

  “And you are a shadow of a great lady who died long ago. I am sorry for it.”

  Saladin pulled a delicate, silver chain from his neck and pressed it into her palm, caressing her hand as he closed her fingers over its tiny pendant.

  “We are finished here,” said Saladin. He turned, limping down the corridor after Liza.

  “Saladin,” called Imaan after him, but he did not look back. She fell back against the wall, breathing heavily and coughing as she stood alone in the hall. She looked to the tiny pendant Saladin had left in her hand, a silver three-spoked wheel with a faceted ruby at its centre, similar to the one she had left with David. Imaan felt her eyes tense with tears too heavy to contain; for the first time in over a hundred years, the Lady cried.

  C H A P T E R 2 6

  David shifted on the pouf, staring absently at the curious items crammed onto the maze of dusty shelves inside Norbert’s house. A thyme topiary of a hippo holding an umbrella smiled at him from the centre shelf on the wall, the crooked hands of a clock in its stomach seemingly ticking slower and slower as David watched it. Now that it read 3:20, David realised he had been shooting glances at this hippo for the past eight hours or so; he began to wonder if, of all the things he had faced so far, he would finally meet his demise atop Norbert’s pouf. Norbert seemed less fazed by the boring day; he sat on the opposite side of the room on his crate, engrossed in The Art of Onions, which he was reading upside down. A squirty grumble broke the silence. He glanced over his book.

  “You hungry?” asked Norbert.

  “A bit, yes,” said David.

  “Alrighty, then. Let’s eat,” said Norbert. He sprung up from his crate and marched through the door and into Gill’s yard, tiptoeing through the potted plants and over the fence with David clambering behind him. He threw open the glossy, black door.

  “Gill, I’m here for my victuals, I am,” said Norbert, smacking his lips. Gill, who had been cutting vegetables in the kitchen, jumped and dropped his knife.

  “Biya, man, and you complain about me arriving unannounced. It’s in the fridge, like always.”

  Norbert ceremoniously marched himself to the fridge while David followed behind, glancing around at Gill’s futuristic-looking bachelor pad. The whole place gleamed with polished stones and tiles, while an ambient water feature trickled in the corner, filled with floating goldfish made of glass. David looked up at the mirrored dome in the ceiling. It bent their figures into strange shapes as they moved.

  “Let’s see, I have jellied stinkbugs or pickled crickets with whortleberry—which would you prefer?” asked Norbert from inside the brightly-lit fridge.

  “Um…”

  “Is David staying for dinner?” asked Gill.

  “Yep,” said Norbert, pulling out a tin of crickets. “Looks like the snapper’s gonna be here ’til tomorrow. He came for some info, but I won’t be ready for him until then.”

  “Why don’t you stay here at the Gilly Pad? Norbert can come get you when he’s ready.”

  David looked to Norbert.

  “It’s fine with me,” said Norbert, “so long as you don’t pick up any of Gill’s shameful habits, or divulge anything about you-know-what.”

  Norbert pointed to his flip-flops.

  “Oh, right,” said David. “It’s a promise. Thank you, Gill.”

  “Pleasure,” said Gill.

  “Looks like it’s more whortleberry for me, then,” said Norbert, holding up his tin. “Cheersies.”

  “Cheers,” said Gill. He picked up his knife as Norbert toddled out the door.

  “May I help you with anything?” asked David.

  “No, it’s fine. Just chopping up the veggies for some salsas and salads,” said Gill. “Though it probably is about time I called the tikihune.”

  Gill swiped his finger across a glass tile on the wall. Half the wall broke apart and shifted forward like a drawer, revealing a cosy living room inside. A small, wooden man was reclining on an antique sofa, watching the springball game on a boxy, black and white television. He had a very large head, nearly half the size of his body, and a pointed wedge nose, over which he looked at Gill with annoyance.

  “Hey Mahn, don’t Gill know the game is on now? Gill a crazy mahn.”

  “Oh come, come, Moai,” said Gill, “there’s plenty of time for watching games. I’ll let you watch the repeat on the big screen tomorrow. How’s that?”

  “Hmph,” said Moai. He jumped up on the creaky sofa and took a deep breath.

  “Ollie-oallie-ahuu!” called Moai, cupping his hand to his mouth. “Come now, tikihune!”

  A hollow drum beat pounded through the house as tiny tikihune jumped off the shelf from behind Moai, growing to nearly a metre in size as they landed. They somersaulted out of their wall apartment and into Gill’s living room, brushing themselves off as they lined up.

  “Please, sit,” said Gill to David, pointing to the leather couches in the corner. “Don’t mind my servants. If you’d like to watch the game, the remote is on the table.”

  David nodded.

  “Wait,” said Moai. He waddled up to David and jumped onto two of the tikihune, who stacked on top of one another so he was eye level with David. He stared at him, fierce and serious.

  “You. Tatu,” said Moai, pushing his stubby hand into David’s chest.

  “Tatu!” shouted Moai, looking down.

  “Ooh, Tatu,” said the others. They all took a step back.

  As Moai jumped down, the tikihune began scurrying about, pushing and prodding David toward the couch while others dropped flowered garlands around his neck. David looked to Gill, who shrugged. Before he could say anything, the door flew open. A young man stood in the doorway, looking dishevelled.

  “Lost them,” said the man. “Took me two frickin’ hours, but I finally lost them. The Rosy Herald is getting good, eh?”

  “I highly doubt they will ever be as good as you, Dom,” said Gill. “You could outfly every Aerothian with your eyes closed.”

  “So they tell me,” said Dominic, smirking. “Hello.”

  He looked in the direction of David, who was now pinned to the couch by several tikihune. They had buried him from the chest to the nose in strands of colourful orchids and waxy, green leaves.

  “Boys, that’s enough,” said Gill. “Back to cleaning.”

  David pulled off the garlands, dropping them in an empty glass bowl as he stood up to greet.

  “Dom, this is David Michelson. He’s visiting Norbert,” said Gill.

  “Norbert?” asked Dominic, raising his eyebrows. “That’s interesting.”

  “David, this is Prince Dominic, nephew to the King,” said Gill.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said David.

  Dominic took a seat next to David on the couch. Two sparkling lemonades appeared on the table in front of them. A tiny flowered garland was strung around David’s glass.

  “So what are you doing visiting Norbert?” asked Dominic. “I don’t think he often gets visitors.”

  “The Lady suggested I visit him,” said David.

  “The Lady? Are you religious?”r />
  “I don’t know.”

  Dominic grabbed the remote next to his lemonade and pointed it at a small, silver cone at the centre of the coffee table. As he clicked it, a miniature version of the National Stadium rose out from the tip of the cone, hovering above the table. Above the stadium, life-sized springball players were running with the roar of the crowd. As they moved, David could see their tiny counterparts moving across the smaller field below.

  “You either are or you aren’t,” said Dominic, clicking the mute button. “What do you mean you don’t know if you’re religious?”

  “Well, I seem to come from a different background from Aeroth; I’m not familiar with all your beliefs and customs,” said David. He pried his foot from a tikihune who was earnestly hugging his leg.

  “Are you from the mountains, then?” asked Dominic.

  David nodded.

  “And you’re planning on coming back to the City?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well that would be a first. I never heard of a rebel wanting to come back,” said Dominic, leaning back on the couch. “Good for you. It’s just a pity you’re already getting such a slanted view of Aeroth. Fading Lady’s really desperate for followers these days, isn’t she, Gill?”

  Gill smiled from the kitchen, where he had begun slicing through at least five kilograms of avocados.

  “Sorry, who?” asked David.

  “He means Lady Imaan,” said Gill. “You really should try to act more like a prince, Dom; Saladin may still disown you.”

  “Nah, never,” said Dominic, chuckling. “Half the widows in Aeroth would die of boredom if they no longer had to pray for my conversion. Besides, with Saladin’s new dish around I shall soon be able to serve up whatever I please, and it’s far too fun being shocking.”

  “Wow, it’s half-time already,” said Dominic, clicking through the channels.

  “And what can I look forward to in the Rosy Herald tomorrow, Dom?” asked Gill, scooping an avocado seed out with a spoon. Dominic kicked his feet up onto the table, smiling dramatically.

  “Well, I don’t want to ruin the fun for you, but I suspect the story will involve a nasty game of strip poker and some dirty jacks in the Zodic’s X-lounge.”

  “Hmm… you’re gambling a lot these days,” said Gill.

  Dominic rolled his eyes.

  “Oh please, I know my limits. If I didn’t know better I would think you’re starting to sound like the Lady.”

  “She may have a point, Dom, at least in regard to your gambling,” said Gill.

  “Nah, she’s a joke, man; everyone knows it,” said Dominic. “I may have to disown you if you start taking her seriously. I mean, Gabe, the Leviathan? You can’t be sane and say things like that.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” said Gill, rinsing his knife. He pulled an equally large sack of tomatoes from off a counter.

  “Have you heard our history yet?” asked Dominic, turning toward David.

  “I suspect not as you would tell it,” said David.

  “Hmm,” said Dominic, sipping his lemonade.

  “I would be interested, though. It’s always good to compare accounts. Having more sources is always preferred, I would think.”

  Dominic set his glass back on the table.

  “Well, as you know the high priests developed quite a convenient system where they were called by Avinoam to protect and preach all this special information, recorded in the manuscripts of all the former high priests, and which only the reigning high priest was allowed access. Could’ve told us that Avi wanted us to kill ourselves, for all we would’ve known, eh Gill?”

  Gill had suddenly become very interested in his tomatoes, slicing as though he was cutting an intricate puzzle. Dominic chuckled.

  “Then, about five generations ago, Eli came to power as high priest, probably the most forward thinking man of the day, that guy. He, unlike the other priests, put great emphasis on the natural world—things we could see and measure, rather than some inspired hogwash. He declared the Sacred Memories manipulative, even broke the rules by marrying. By the end of his life he had abolished the priesthood and set the stage for the six tribes to rule together as a democracy, with the judges as representatives rather than leaders.”

  David nodded.

  “But of course, this didn’t sit well with some of the judges. Each wanted to rule as the priest had done. The peace fell apart shortly after he died, and three generations went by known as the Dark Age, ruled by fierce tribalism. The humans were nearly wiped out.”

  “I think this is when your people retreated into the mountains, isn’t it?” asked Gill. Dominic pointed to the floating image over the table.

  “Hey look, it’s Uncle and Liza; they finally made it to the game. Bet he was at another opening during the ceremony, eh Gill?” said Dominic, chuckling. “Fading Lady looks rather unhappy about it, the old goat.”

  “So what happened… after we left for the mountains?” asked David, glancing briefly at the frowning Lady.

  “Well, this woman here saw a great opportunity,” said Dominic, pointing to Lady Imaan. “The tribes were ruled by men, and custom would’ve dictated she stay at home. But she wanted power. She hunted down what was left of the Sacred Memories and declared herself, as the descendent of Eli, the new high priest, using the fragmented manuscripts as proof. Somehow, for reasons that still escape me, it worked, and Imaan rose to the head of the tribes.”

  “Lady Imaan is a descendent of this Eli?” asked David.

  “The Lady is Eli’s great-granddaughter,” said Gill.

  “The problem was that after a while all those memories started going to her head,” said Dominic. “As more and more people bowed to her authority, the Lady started to believe she really was called by Avinoam as the Divine Mediator. It worked beautifully, until she was wrong.”

  “If you’ll excuse me I have to run back to the shop for a moment. Do you need anything?” asked Gill, dropping his knife in the sink.

  Both Dominic and David shook their heads.

  “Alright, then,” said Gill, making for the door. “See you soon.”

  “About what was the Lady wrong?” asked David, turning to Dominic.

  “The Nephilim,” said Dominic.

  David looked at him.

  “See, the Lady did have a bit of Eli’s logic amid her dogmatism; she rejected the old wives’ tales about people rising from the sea to murder our first parents. She didn’t think the mers existed, since surely they would’ve been mentioned in the Sacred Memories if they had. Imaan took a major blow when the Nephilim rose out of the sea and slaughtered us. People begin to doubt your Divine authority when you make a mistake that nearly decimates the entire race.”

  “I can imagine,” said David.

  “Mhm,” said Dominic. “She fought desperately to correct it, of course. Suddenly Qoholeth’s memory appeared with reference to the mers, and she embraced every last legend down to the letter. She even published the Sacred Memories so everyone could read and study them, but the damage was done. Imaan started going crazy after that—became paranoid about everything. It was just after the war that Gabe rose to fame as well, upsetting her more.”

  “Yeah, who is this Gabe? She seems to really despise him,” asked David.

  “Just one of the greatest humans that ever lived,” said Dominic.

  “Because?”

  “Well, for one thing he’s the wealthiest man in the land, under the King, and he founded the Zodic casino, which puts him right up there with the best of them in my book,” said Dominic, grabbing his lemonade. “But it’s not just that. The man’s a genius in other respects too. He founded the Silbi Corporation; he has more patents to his name than any other Aerothian; and he invented the aquamail. That and the Zodic really did him well. Most people with that kind of cash would just sit back and not give a
damn about anyone else, but not him. Most of the Zodic’s profits go to running various social services, while Gabe still works his pants off as a major sponsor and active board member of a dozen resource management projects, from water to sanitation, to agriculture and animal husbandry. You name it, he’s done it. He even founded and owns several pharmaceutical companies, and most of the money goes back to the government to start more projects. I don’t know where he gets the time or inclination. He really cares about Aeroth, almost as much as Uncle, which is probably why they’re best friends. They basically founded the City together, grew it to what it is now. If I didn’t know better I would say he’s Eli’s long lost grandson or something. Meanwhile all Eli’s acclaimed granddaughter can do is build herself a morbid fantasy world that cannot be challenged.”

  Dominic set his glass back on the table.

  “I’m guessing you’ve heard we’re all poisoned?” asked Dominic.

  “It was mentioned,” said David.

  Dominic shook his head.

  “Hmph, and that’s not even the worst of it. You’ve only just met her, I’m assuming, but I can tell you, having been around her most of my life, it is my personal opinion that if she went for the tests she would be dubbed clinically insane.

  “Isn’t that a bit—”

  “Hang on,” said Dominic. He stared at the floating images of the springball players in front of him and turned up the volume. Gill’s house filled with the roar of the stadium, over which an announcer was shouting.

  Intercepted by Hale! Duckwart’s pass to Louis intercepted by Hale. Hale runs it.

  “Go, you idle cretin, go!” yelled Dominic, jumping off the couch. A springball player in a black and white shirt was running with the ball tucked under his arm. Another player waited at the line, bouncing impatiently on the trampoline. The announcer yelled through the crowd.

  Murray at the line waiting to jump. Could this be it, folks? Luther closing in…

  “Pass it!” shouted Dominic from the edge of his seat.

  Hale to Murray. Murray makes the jump, and…