by Tara Omar
“Field research,” said Kajal.
“Was this man part of the research?” asked Uriel as he looked at David.
“This is David Michelson,” said Kajal.
“Of Scuttlebrook,” said Regina, “in the Lowveld.”
The air turned cold and salty as they took their seats around the table. Uriel regarded David with an unreadable, stony stare that neither acknowledged his existence nor ignored it. Regina shuffled in her seat.
“Shall we have a lesson before dinner?” asked Regina.
“If the King desires it,” said Silver.
“Oh please, Silver, I do like your conjuring, and it will be good for conversation,” said Regina.
“Proceed, Silver,” said Uriel.
“As you wish,” said Silver. He snapped his fingers and turned up his palms, conjuring up a scene at the centre of the table.
“Once there was a mer who longed to have one of the birds in Paradise. He used to swim the long journey up to the shores every day, watching the birds from behind the pearled gates, all the while praying that the Silent One might soon grant him the riches needed to live there himself, so he could take a bird for his own.
Then one day the Prince noticed this sad mer swimming up to the shore and, seeing how much he longed for a bird, said the Prince, ‘I have watched you swim up to the shore, and have heard you praying foolishly to the Silent One for a bird from Paradise. Therefore take this egg and look after it, carry it around with you day and night, by order of the Prince.’
The mer did as was commanded and carried the egg around with him day and night since it had been the Prince who had commanded it, but secretly he cursed the Prince for mocking him, for the egg was heavy and made the daily journey to Paradise burdensome.
After a time the mer said, ‘Why must I carry this burden around with me day and night when it is of no use to me? I will therefore break the egg and feed its contents to the birds in Paradise, so that the birds may come nearer the gate, and I may catch a better glimpse of them. I will then carry around instead the broken fragments of the eggshell, which will be much lighter and easier to carry, and will not hinder my journey.’
And so the mer did as he thought and continued to watch the birds every day from afar, praying and longing that one day he might have one for his own. Days and years passed until eventually he died, bitter and unsatisfied, cursing Silence.
Now when the Prince saw what the mer had done and how he had died bitter and unsatisfied, he shook his head and sighed, for the egg the Prince had given the mer had been the egg of the majestic moa, the rarest and most beautiful bird in Paradise.”
Silver waved his hands and a beautiful, feathery bird fluttered up from the broken shell fragments. It stared at David with familiar eyes he had seen what felt like an eternity ago, though its body was different.
Kiwi, thought David, but in another moment the bird burst into a wisp of light and was gone.
“There are many mers alive like this lonely, foolish mer,” said Silver, “many humans also.”
Regina applauded.
“Oh, most excellent!” said Regina. “And so true. Mers are never satisfied with what they have.”
“Yes, while that presupposes the mers have something with which to be satisfied, doesn’t it?” asked Kajal.
“Oh please, Kajal. If the mers weren’t crying for food they would be crying for something else,” said Regina.
“Regina’s right, Kajal; the poor can be just as greedy and immoral as the wealthy, even more so,” said Uriel.
“Precisely. If they were so bad off, they would be dead,” said Regina. She turned to David. “No offense to your people.”
David nodded.
“Excuse me, King Mahn, it’s time for your soup course now,” said the squat figure through the windows. “Your elbows need to be finding their way off the table.”
“Apologies, Hongi,” said Uriel, moving his arms.
“Silence has given us the law of war so that no king can send a mer into battle without fighting himself, or claim victory unless he himself has won it equally with his soldiers. It should be the same with wealth also,” said Kajal.
“You may just get your wish for equality if you keep costing me a fortune in travels, teachers and scholars,” said Uriel.
“King-Mahn… your elbows,” said Hongi, pointing her ladle through the window. As she moved, David could see she was made of wood, with a large nose and short, trunk-like features. She looked a lot like Moai.
“Isn’t she lovely?” asked Regina to David. “She’s called a tikihune.”
“A tikihune?” asked David.
“Yes, they were supposed to be the cup-bearers for the residents of Paradise. Adorable little things, aren’t they? Unfortunately they were caught in the crossfire when the apes took over. The rest of them burned, I’m sorry to say. Those animals on land had absolutely no feeling. Hongi was in a right state when she was discovered; Kajal here has worked wonders with her and her fear of fire; now she’s the premier pastry chef in the Palace,” said Regina, “but we don’t speak of the past around her. It’s still a bit of a sensitive issue.”
“Of course,” said David.
“Here she comes now,” said Regina. “And what do we have today, Hongi? Something delicious, I hope.”
“Always, Ma’am,” said Hongi. “Today’s highlights include onion soup with Hongi’s special baguette and the King-Mahn’s very own Mudskipper Swiss from the royal cheese cave, followed by some nice-nice humpback calf and a sugared berry-merry for the dessert-din.”
Five mers in pressed chef’s uniforms followed Hongi from the kitchen, each carrying a porcelain bowl with a long, arched handle like a giant gravy spoon. They placed the bowls around the table with handles facing inward. Each contained a portion of soup like dark caramel with a floating baguette slice. Hongi set a block of cheese nearly half the size of her body at the table’s centre and then climbed on top of it. She waved her stubby arms.
“And enjoy,” said Hongi, clapping her hands.
Before David could pick up his spoon, five slimy, lizard-looking fish burst through the sides of the cheese, each one the size of a cucumber. They wobbled down the porcelain bowl handles as though they were runways, smacking their fins down until each one reached the edge of its bowl. They each vomited a lump of melted cheese into the soup before returning to the block in the centre.
“Lovely presentation, Hongi,” said Regina. “You never disappoint.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” said Hongi, jumping from the table. David grimaced.
“Do you need more cheese?” asked Regina.
“No, no, I’m good,” said David, picking up his spoon.
“Don’t worry, Kajal-baby, I have a special sea lettuce salad for your main course, with extra watercress. No baby whale for you,” said Hongi.
“Thank you,” said Kajal. “Do you eat meat, David?”
“Oh Kajal, how can you be so insensitive?” asked Regina. “Of course he doesn’t, normally. They can’t afford meat in those abundantly challenged areas. Aren’t I right, David?”
“I must admit I’ve never had humpback calf before,” said David.
“Well, I’ll tell you you’re going to love it. The orcas brought it in right this morning. If it was any fresher it would still be milking its mother.”
“Orcas?”
“Why, yes. The orcas are the best hunters, but they only enjoy the tongues. They give us the rest,” said Regina. “Didn’t you know that?”
Silver made a face.
“Oh right, I must have forgotten,” said David.
“Of course,” said Regina.
“So what do you plan to do with the money, if you win it?” asked Uriel.
“Pardon?” asked David.
“The money. Twenty million veneros to anyone who can
make a definitive breakthrough with the famine research,” said Uriel.
“There’s a famine?” asked David.
Regina, Kajal and Uriel looked at him as though he had two heads. Silver smirked.
“Are you not feeling the effects of the poor crop yields? I would suspect an impoverished town so near the kelp farms would be the hardest hit,” said Silver wryly.
“Oh, um, I did notice less food than usual, but I didn’t know it was called a famine,” said David, shuffling.
“Well, what did you think it was called?” asked Regina.
“Less food.”
Regina choked back a laugh.
“I take it you did not know about the competition, then?” asked Uriel.
“No, Sir,” said David. Uriel waved his hand. A servant brought forward a newspaper clipping on a plate and placed it in front of David. He read the headline.
King Declares Competition to Combat Famine.
“We’re designing and building water filtration systems to try to combat the famine. Our lab is located on the side of the Palace. We plot our designs on the wall; if any of the built prototypes significantly improve crop yields, the designer will win the prize,” said Kajal.
“Oh, so you literally meant plotting against the royal house,” said David.
“The title is meant to draw attention to the royal family’s concern for the famine,” said Kajal.
“It was Silver’s idea,” said Regina.
“Of course it was,” mumbled David. He handed the clipping back to the servant, who took it away.
“So do you think you have what it takes to make a significant contribution?” asked Uriel.
“I don’t know, Sir,” said David.
“Have you worked in water filtration before?” asked Uriel.
“No, Sir.”
“Are you skilled at spinning filament, then?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then what do you do, David? Do tell,” said Regina.
“I’m an art and music teacher,” said David.
The King frowned.
“Why are you here?” asked Uriel.
“With all due respect, Sir, I’ve been asking the same question for quite some time now,” said David, looking at Kajal. Uriel followed his gaze.
“We ran into each other while I was researching; he seemed like a good candidate to join my team,” said Kajal.
“Is it now?” asked Uriel.
“Yes. You see—”
But David didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, for at that very moment he saw it—the simple, greyish-black band around Uriel’s wrist as he rolled up his sleeve. Fire shot through David’s veins. It was the screams of humans dying by the thousands, the sobbing howls of Norbert, holding his dead son.
David shook his head.
“Will you excuse me a moment, I um, need to… restroom,” said David, wiping the sweat from his palms. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Yes, of course,” said Regina. She called an elderly-looking servant. “Please show our guest the way.”
David hurried out of the dining room, careful to avoid the curious gazes of both the King and Silver. He was barely out the door before Uriel set down his spoon and turned.
“Kajal, you can’t be serious,” said Uriel.
“Why not?” asked Kajal.
“You have more intelligence in one finger than he’s learned in his lifetime,” said Uriel.
“It’s like he’s from another world,” said Silver.
“He’s wearing amber,” said Kajal.
“And you really think some mer from Scuttlebrook could spin a substance the most skilled and educated mers have trouble with even after decades at the University, just because?” asked Uriel.
“It’s possible,” said Kajal.
“Stop idolising the poor,” said Uriel. “He more likely stole it than spun it.”
“I am not idolising anyone; I am simply more open-minded,” said Kajal.
“No, you are unrealistic,” said Uriel.
“He is staying,” said Kajal, standing to leave. “Excuse me.”
She followed after David.
“She is like her mother,” said Silver.
“That is precisely what I am afraid of,” said Uriel.
“It’s just a phase, Uriel. Once she has a baby she will come to her senses and will no longer worry with these grand things,” said Regina.
“Are you suggesting I marry her off, then?”
“I am simply saying that when the inevitable time does come, she will care only for the mouth that cries for her. Then she will have less compassion for the people who turn their backs on their own children. And you can’t protect her forever, Uriel, you know that.”
“She has her projects; for now it is enough,” said Uriel.
“Actually this new farm boy wouldn’t be a bad candidate for making babies, if you ask me,” said Regina, touching her lips.
“Regina!” said Uriel.
“What? After all, he’s not bad-looking, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him controlling Kajal with his intelligent reason, now would you?” said Regina. She breathed deeply and fanned herself with her hand, looking toward the door.
“Hooh, you’ll have to excuse me a minute. All this talk of meat has made my teeth itch,” said Regina. “I think I’ll just go freshen up before the entrée.”
She offered a slight bow toward her brother and danced her way toward the door. Uriel sighed.
“Perhaps I have sheltered her too much, Silver. My girl is too moral for her own good.”
“Are you implying that morality is undesirable?” asked Silver.
“It certainly opens one up for exploitation, there is no mistake about that,” said Uriel. “Silence forbid she will go the same way as her mother.”
“You speak as one without power,” said Silver.
“Confidence hasn’t been very kind to this throne, now has it?” asked Uriel.
“Perhaps you’re right. The moral choice is perhaps a dismal one if the proper powers are not set in place to protect the moral person. I cannot imagine, though, how such laws would ever arise if one does not imagine what the preceding moral should look like; in that, she may not be without merit.”
“What do you see, Silver?” asked Uriel.
“I see what you see,” said Silver.
“That there will be a schism in the royal house if a compromise is not met?”
“It does not take a jinn to tell a father of his headstrong daughter,” said Silver.
Uriel nodded.
Meanwhile outside the door, David paced quietly with his hands deep inside his pockets. Kajal met him near the window.
“I’m sorry about the comments. They don’t mean any harm,” said Kajal.
“It’s fine,” said David.
“It’s just that…”
“Leave it. It’s alright. They just want what’s best for you, and they know I’m not it,” said David.
“Yes, well I prefer to make my own decisions about what’s best for me,” said Kajal, looking out at the lighted cityscape.
David nodded. “Your father’s bracelet. What is it?”
“As in, what is it made of?” asked Kajal. “I’m not sure. Why?”
“No real reason. It just seems a rather simple adornment for a king,” said David.
“It’s more sentimental than anything else. It belonged to my grandfather. I think it’s an old piece of shark leather. My grandfather was fond of sharks.” Kajal turned, thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen my father without it. He calls it his good luck charm.”
“Kajal-baby, you must come now. Your daddy-mer is calling you back,” said Hongi from the door. She was holding a long, crusty baguette.
David followed,
but Hongi stepped in his way, closing the door behind her so that she was alone with David in the hall.
“I know your kind, and you, you nothing but trouble,” said Hongi, brandishing the baguette. “You stay away from Hongi’s Kajal-baby, you hear?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said David.
“Or I put live yeast in your underpants,” said Hongi.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said David.
“Hmph. Your kind is nothing but trouble, Hongi knows.”
She poked David in the side with her baguette as she opened the door. David hurried inside and took his seat.
“Mr Michelson, I will allow you to stay and assist Kajal, on condition,” said Uriel. “You will stay at the hostel for temporary workers across the street, and you will earn your salary through other means, unaffiliated with the royal house. I will also be running a background check. If you choose to accept this offer and something disagreeable on your record is found, the punishment will be severe, do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” said David.
“You shall report to the staff entrance tomorrow morning. A job will be arranged for you then.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And the proper way to address me is Your Majesty, not Sir,” said Uriel.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said David.
“No, no, no, David. It’s ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ Fulfil the vow-el as though it is a goal that needs to be accomplished. You can’t simply pass over it as though it doesn’t exist. Who taught you to speak, anyway?” asked Silver. “Knife?”
David stared at the serrated knife in Silver’s hand.
“For your whale calf,” said Silver.
“No, thank you,” said David.
“Suit yourself,” said Silver.
The rest of the dinner finished without incident. David and Uriel seemed to reach a mutual agreement to ignore each other, while Kajal did her best to keep light-hearted conversation with her aunt. Hongi continued to serve up dramatic, delicious courses; she poked and grunted at David at every opportunity, much to Silver’s amusement. After the last plate was cleared, Uriel sat alone with his daughter, cold and brooding.
“You are not to speak to him except during lessons. Understood?” said Uriel.
