by Tara Omar
Norbert nodded.
“Be there?” asked Norbert. “I’m… going to need a sword. I doubt ol’ Melinda will turn for me. She was always fond of Charlie.”
“Yeah,” said Gill.
Norbert nodded again.
“Well we best be going then,” said Norbert. He took one step forward and collapsed into Gill’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Gill patted his back roughly as the two sank to the ground, swept away by inconsolable grief over a child who was soon to be no more.
Gill clicked the remote, and the scene shrank back into the cone. David sat stone still on the couch, his chest filled with the quiet numbness of having just returned from a funeral.
“Makes you want to stay in the mountains, huh?” asked Gill.
“A little, yeah,” said David. “And they could do this again, the mers?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Gill. He removed the chip from the side of the cone and placed it back with his collection.
“I think it’s best if you didn’t visit Norbert again, for both of you,” said Gill, turning to David. “Dominic is up on the dunes and should be back in a few hours; when he returns, he can take you wherever you need to go. I can collect your things from Norbert’s house when you’re ready to leave.”
David nodded.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to step out a minute,” said David.
“Yeah, sure. Take your time,” said Gill. “I’m sorry your visit had to be filled with so much grief.”
David left Gill’s house and walked to the edge of King’s Beach, stopping on the dock where he had first spoken with the Lady. He sat down and stared out at the choppy sea; it crashed over some distant rocks, sending an explosion of droplets into the air. The cold, salty air sent a chill down his spine; David wrapped his arms around himself as Moai waddled up beside him.
“What’s bothering you, mahn?” asked Moai, sitting down. “Tatu looking like a dead fish now.”
“I don’t know what to do, Moai,” said David, staring out over the Oceana.
Moai nodded.
“Where is your sweet potato?” asked Moai.
“Pardon?”
“Your kumara, your Lady Tatu.”
“Oh, I don’t have one,” said David.
“Tatu must get himself a sweet potato; they are very good at telling you what to do,” said Moai. He kicked his stubby feet over the edge of the dock. “You have no more worries after that.”
“Do you have a kumara, Moai?” asked David.
“Yah mahn, but she gone for a long time now,” said Moai. “I wait for her to come back.”
“Where has she gone?” asked David.
“I don’t know,” said Moai. “But she will come. One day.”
Moai stood up.
“Don’t stand still too long, Tatu,” said Moai, tapping David on the arm. “If you don’t gather now, you will starve tomorrow. Keep moving until you find your sweet potato.”
David smiled.
“Thanks, Moai,” said David. Moai nodded as he turned around, waddling back down the seafront in the direction of Gill’s house.
David stuck his hands into his pocket.
“What the—”
Something was weighing down his pocket, like a stone wrapped in cloth. David pulled out the curious object; it was the handkerchief he had handed Bellecris.
“Oh, I forgot about this,” said David, looking at the crumpled handkerchief. He saw an unusual glimmer of blue shining through the fold. He peeled it open.
“Whoa,” said David. He crumpled the cloth in his hand and darted down the seafront, past Gill’s house and right up to Norbert’s front door.
C H A P T E R 3 0
David banged on the flimsy boards that marked the door to Norbert’s shack, still holding the handkerchief in his other hand. The sun beat down on the back of David’s neck, making his skin itch with a burning feeling, despite the chilly breeze. He shuffled in between the containers of plants.
“Norbert?” asked David, knocking again. “Please open the door, Norbert.”
“Go away,” said Norbert from inside. “My shack is too small for stupid people.”
“I have something I’d like you to identify for me, Norbert,” said David, looking at the handkerchief. “I think it may have come from a tree.”
After a long moment the door creaked open. Norbert glared at him from behind the door. His eyes were puffy and his shirt tear-stained; he was holding a monarch butterfly. David sighed.
“Thank you, Norbert,” said David.
“I didn’t say you could speak,” said Norbert, wiping his nose. “Show me the something.”
David held out his hand. A shining, blue stone was stuck to the inside threads of the handkerchief, like a pearly blob of blue paint. Norbert swiped it from David’s hand and held it close to his nose, eyeing it carefully.
“Interesting. You said it came from a tree?” asked Norbert.
“I think so,” said David.
Norbert staggered across his shack and plopped down in a swivel chair across from his computer. He switched the button on the side and the wilted leaves of the cabbage stiffened. Norbert dropped the stone into the centre of the cabbage. The computer beeped wildly as the screen pulled up a scroll of text.
“Davey, Davey. You really are the One,” said Norbert as he stared at the computer screen, “though only Avi knows why.”
“What?” asked David.
Norbert turned around. “The stone you carry is blue amber, a very powerful stone, that is, and very rare, too. Best keep it close.”
He picked the stone from the centre of the cabbage with his chopsticks and dropped it into David’s hand.
“What does it do?” asked David.
“It opens things,” said Norbert.
“You mean like a lock pick?” asked David.
“No, you oblivious egg yolk,” said Norbert slapping the back of David’s head. “Think hearts, minds, maybe even doors. It can unfold things, start things. Any definition of the word open, it can do.”
“Uh-huh,” said David, looking confused.
“But only if you don’t ask it to,” said Norbert, shaking his finger. That’s very important. You must never ask it to do something.”
David nodded.
“An opening device that only works when you don’t ask it to—that’s convenient,” said David.
“You know you’re already zero-for-one with intelligent responses; you should stop while you’re behind,” said Norbert. “It’s because of the stone that I opened the door for an idiot now, isn’t it? You’ve already seen it working, and yet you laugh.”
David looked to the floor.
“So how did you come by this, anyway?” asked Norbert.
“I was on my way to Lion Mountain when I had a run-in with a screeving willow. She started crying, and… What is it?” asked David, seeing the change in Norbert’s face.
“You said Lion Mountain? As in the mountain in the middle of Faerkbërde?”
“Yes,” said David. “What’s the matter?”
Norbert threw his hands over his head.
“Davey, people who go into Lion’s Mouth never come back. Ever,” said Norbert.
“Are you serious?” asked David.
“I’m the picture of seriousness, I am,” said Norbert. He pulled a map from inside a milk bottle and laid it out on his workbench. “The trail leading up to Lion Mountain is known as Suicide Way.”
Norbert pointed to the line on the map with his chopstick. Sure enough, it was the exact trail David had followed on the way to retrieve the seaweed. David stared.
“That would mean Raphael tried to kill me,” said David, looking up.
“Who?” asked Norbert.
“The exiled mer in the forest,” said David. “I think
he tried to kill me.”
“Well, technically you would’ve killed yourself, you would’ve, waltzing right up to the Lion’s Mouth,” said Norbert. “That’s more of the merish style. I guess he would’ve given you some sort of tricky warning that you’d never suspect though, just to make sure it was your decision—that he wasn’t forcing you.”
David took a step backward.
“It will be the end of your time here,” said David.
“What?” asked Norbert.
“‘If you continue as you are, it will be the end of your time here.’ Raphael said that as I was leaving on the trail. I thought he was telling me to change my attitude,” said David, looking up.
Norbert nodded.
“Told you. Mers are a tricky bunch, they are. They cannot be trusted as trustworthy.”
“But Raphael can’t go back to Larimar,” said David, crinkling he eyebrows. “He’s allied with the humans now.”
“Maybe he’s looking for a way back into the Nephilim’s good graces,” said Norbert.
“He had King Saladin at his doorstep; that would’ve been a far bigger prize than me,” said David.
“Maybe not big enough,” said Norbert, his eyes bright with a thought, “especially if they are planning a war.”
“Death of a king in battle merits automatic surrender.”
“Exactly,” said Norbert. “If he killed Saladin now, the humans would find a new king and prepare for war. We humans are very innovative, we are; surprise is the only way to garner acute advantage.”
“Would the mers really risk more lives invading the land if no one’s bothering them?” asked David.
“They did once,” said Norbert, shrugging.
David nodded.
“We know the mers have very strict laws and very harsh punishments,” said Norbert. “Exile would have been a great mercy, only ever afforded to this one mer you know. I don’t think the mers would have taken the trouble to write his exile into the Coastal Treaty unless he had done something really good for them, nor the Lady allow it unless he had done something really good for us. The way I see it, the chap must be very skilled at playing the winning side, he must, and the fact that he has secretly switched allegiances is very disconcerting.”
“No, you’re right,” said David. “We must see what’s going on. How do I do it? How do I get into Larimar?”
“Now you’re talking!” said Norbert. He spun around in his chair, grabbing his goggles and oven mitts.
“Let’s check the poison first. Looks like the Lady left you a poisoned dagger as well, though I doubt it’ll be much help in the shield snatching. Can’t hurt to be doubly cautious; just make sure you don’t touch the blade. Best keep it sheathed unless absolutely necessary. As mentioned, the mouth is the weakest part. I’ll have to see what poison she gave you so you know best how to administer it.”
Norbert uncorked the stopper of the blue bottle on his desk and poured a drop into the centre of the purple cabbage. The computer hummed, and the cabbage emitted a very low beep. Norbert looked closer.
“That’s odd. That’s very odd,” said Norbert.
“What?” asked David.
“I figured it wouldn’t be cyanide again because they’d have had time to prepare for that, but still,” said Norbert, typing on the keyboard. David leaned in.
“Old Purples here can’t identify the compound. Looks like I’m going to have to make a new entry,” said Norbert. “Let’s see. I shall call it Davey’s Poison.”
“Does it know many poisons?” asked David.
“Purples has samples of every known plant-based poison in Aeroth, and some animal ones,” said Norbert. “This must be a rare strain, perhaps even a residual one from the period when Paradise started to turn not-so-paradisey. If that’s the case this must be super potent, it must. I’d handle it with care.”
He returned the cork to the bottle; then he wrapped it in an old chip packet and a loose page of the Rosy Herald before setting it in David’s canvas bag, along with the dagger.
“So what’s the plan?” asked David.
“Well, the border between Larimar and Aeroth is very heavily guarded, it is; we’re going to have to smuggle you in,” said Norbert, rifling through a bin. “There’s an Octavite lady that used to run a boat tour company from her house. Used to make a pretty penny smuggling mers in and out of Aeroth back before things got tight; she’s your best bet at making it over. Name’s Jia Li.” He pulled a brochure of a homely, split-level fishing cottage from the bin and handed it to David.
“This is her place,” said Norbert. “The Lady left you a boat ticket with the poison. Gill can drive you to the harbour; from there you’ll catch the boat to the Outlands, where Jia Li lives. She’ll take care of the rest. You can pay her fee with the gold.”
“And then?” asked David.
“Then it’s up to your imagination,” said Norbert. “You’ll figure it out.”
“How do I get back?” asked David.
“One thing at a time, Davey. You must get yourself in first, then you can worry about getting out.”
A loud knock sounded on the door.
“Norbert?” asked Gill, peeking through the window.
“Come on in, Gill. The door’s open!” shouted Norbert. He turned off his computer and threw another paper over the open parcel. Given all the clutter in the room, his cover was hardly noticeable.
“Oh, I was wondering where you ran off to,” said Gill, eyeing David. “Are you alright, Norbert?”
“Couldn’t be better, Gilliwags,” said Norbert. “Davey here was just telling me a tale that’s right near exciting, it is.” Norbert slapped his knee.
“Good to hear it,” said Gill, smiling. “Have you figured out what’s wrong with my bromeliad?”
“You mean Fortuna?” asked Norbert.
“Norbert, what did I tell you about naming my plants?” asked Gill. He rubbed his eyebrows.
“Well, as a matter of fact I did get a chance to look at Fortuna,” said Norbert, “and she has been a naughty girl, she has. Her soil is intoxicated almost to the highest degree of intoxicatedness.”
“What?” asked Gill.
“She’s drunk,” said Norbert.
“Drunk?”
“Yep.”
“That’s bizarre,” said Gill.
“Fortuna can make a full recovery, but one more of your famous, fruity cocktails and she would’ve been in serious trouble, she would’ve,” said Norbert, looking solemn. He handed a yellowed advert clipped from the Rosy Herald to Gill. “Looks like her drinking is quite serious; I suggest you take her here. Their next meeting is on Tuesday.”
Gill looked at the paper.
“Norbert, I am not taking my bromeliad to an Alcohol Awareness meeting,” said Gill.
“Okay, suit yourself,” said Norbert, shrugging, “though denial’s never helped anyone. Best to nip it in the bud, I’d say, but she’s your bromeliad.”
“Anything else you suggest?” asked Gill.
“Do you have a pentail tree shrew?”
“No,” said Gill.
“Well, then the best I can suggest is several doses of my special get-over-hangover formula,” said Norbert, pulling a small, brown bottle from one of his cluttered shelves. “It’s packed with plenty of planty electrolytes for rehydration, plus extra alcohol dehydrogenase, to break down the ethyl.”
“That should be just fine,” said Gill. “Thank you.”
He took the bottle from Norbert and picked up the bromeliad with a flutter of his hand.
“Are you coming, David?” asked Gill, nodding toward the door. “Dominic’s back now, he can give you a lift.”
“Yep, he’s coming,” said Norbert. “He’s got a boat to catch!”
C H A P T E R 3 1
Saladin sat at a long, wooden ta
ble in his study with an open book in front of him. Imaan approached from the corridor.
“What are you reading?” asked Imaan.
“The Sacred Memories. I do not know it as well as I should, as I believe you have already pointed out to me,” said Saladin. “How’s our friend?”
“He left Norbert’s house this morning and should be boarding a boat to the Outlands very soon,” said Imaan.
“All seems to be as planned then. Please, sit.”
“No, thank you, I’m not staying,” said Imaan. “I came to give you an apology.”
Saladin set down his book.
“I have perhaps been unfair to you and to Liza, and rather wrapped up in memories of late,” said Imaan. “It is not good for my office, or for you.”
“You can’t protect the world, Imaan; not alone, anyway,” said Saladin.
Imaan nodded, staring at her feet.
“But thank you. It means a lot,” said Saladin.
Imaan smiled.
“Avi, you have a smile that could rule the world,” said Saladin, shaking his head.
“Is everything alright?” asked Liza, as she entered through the opposite door.
“Yes, fine. I was just leaving,” said Imaan, clearing her throat. “We must discuss your wedding plans when you are ready. I shall need time to prepare the blessing.”
“You’ll preside at our wedding?” asked Saladin.
“Yes, if you’ll have me,” said Imaan.
“Of course, we’d be honoured,” said Liza.
Imaan nodded.
“Anyway, I must be going,” said Imaan, turning to leave.
She paused.
“And please also give my regards to Gabe.”
Saladin stared after her as she disappeared down the corridor toward the Temple.
“Has the Lady’s heart finally softened?” asked Liza.
“I think perhaps her heart has been too soft from the start,” said Saladin.
“Sorry?” asked Liza.
“Excuse me,” said Saladin. He kissed her forehead without looking and left through the opposite door, lost in thought.
C H A P T E R 3 2
The misty air hung heavy with the pungent smell of fish as Dominic and David landed in the harbour. Dominic tied the pteroduck in between two rusty fishing trawlers, while David stared down at the choppy green-grey waters, thinking. The dock led toward a row of dingy business fronts and stacks of containers, in front of which lay piles of dead fish, where people stood haggling over prices and unloading cargo from the ships. A fishmonger sat directly opposite them repairing his net; he waved and smiled at David, revealing two missing front teeth. Less than a kilometre away David could see another dock running parallel to the one on which he stood. It was bedecked with lights and lined with luxury yachts and pteroducks. It led up to a tropical garden with what looked like a stone mountain at its centre.
