by Tara Omar
“What do you mean?” asked David.
“How did you get to the human land?” asked Natalie.
“Excuse me?” asked David.
“Your earwax contains trace amounts of dander from Brotogeris cyanoptera, which was specifically bred as a show animal for the Paradise development. It was lost after the rebellion.”
“Sorry?”
“You’ve been around a cobalt-winged parakeet,” said Natalie. She pressed a button on her computer; a four-dimensional image of a bird exactly like Kiwi floated above her keyboard. David stared at her.
“The wax also contains a pollen grain from Canda coerulea, a rare, blue orchid found only in the forests of Aeroth,” said Natalie, reading over her notes, “in a eula grove to be exact. You’ve been to the human land.”
“Here we are,” said John, coming down the stairs with a tray. “I hope you like carrot juice.” He handed a glass to David and one to Natalie.
“How’s the company?” asked John.
“Lovely,” said David.
“Hmm. You’re very polite,” said John. David looked toward Albert, who was hiding behind a vase full of brightly-coloured gerbera daisies near the window.
“Is that octopus staying out of water?” asked David.
“Yep, that’s Nellie’s engineering, and the reason for all these hydrometers hidden everywhere,” said John, tapping a nearby instrument David recognised from art museums. “My Nellie’s a bright spark, you’ll see. She would have had a full scholarship to the University, if she wasn’t so interested in these disgusting, butt-picking—”
“Primates, Dad. They’re primates,” said Natalie.
“Sorry, sorry,” said John, holding up his hands. “We agree to disagree on that interest. Anyway…” John sighed. “Well, how about I leave you two to get to know each other, while I whip us up a batch of my famous fish and chips? It’s a guest favourite.”
“Can I help with anything?” asked David.
“Nope. Just make yourself at home. It’ll be ready in a jiffy,” said John, heading for the stairs, “and try not to scare him off, Nellie.”
“I’ll try,” said Natalie, turning to her microscope.
John shook his head. “Of all the subjects in Larimar…” He climbed the steps and headed toward the kitchen while Natalie fiddled with the magnification on her microscope.
“Hmm… I’ve also found a bonded polymer of unknown origin and whale bile, so I suspect you smuggled yourself back in some sort of plastic in the belly of a whale… Genius,” said Natalie. She laughed to herself and then frowned. “But I don’t see any layer indicating when you smuggled yourself in. Unless…”
She turned off her microscope and pulled out a pair of gloves.
“Albert, I need tubes and a swab,” said Natalie, putting on the gloves. The octopus disappeared into the drawers, emerging with two thin, plastic tubes and a cotton swab. Natalie pulled out three glass bottles filled with liquid, a pair of chopsticks and a pile of thin turkey basters. Albert handed her the swab.
“Now, open your mouth,” said Natalie.
“Excuse me?”
“Please,” said Natalie. Albert folded his arms; his skin turned prickly and wart-like as he glared at David.
“Okay,” said David, opening his mouth. Natalie swabbed the inside of his cheek and snipped the cotton end into one of the tubes. Albert, who had donned plastic tubes on his arms like gloves and a pair of safety glasses, filled a nearby teacup with steaming water, while Natalie used the turkey baster to dispense liquid from the first bottle inside the tube with the swab. She capped the tube and dropped it in the teacup.
“What are you doing?” asked David.
“Extracting your DNA,” said Natalie.
“Is this really necessary?” asked David. “I already feel so exposed after my telling earwax.”
Natalie smiled. She removed the tube from the teacup with a pair of chopsticks, and plucked out the cotton. Then she added liquid from the second bottle to the tube and handed it to Albert. The octopus carried it to a curved, metal box next to her microscope that looked like a converted bread maker. He set the tube inside, closed the lid and pressed a button. It began to hum like a dryer.
“Centrifuge,” said Natalie. “It spins the tube really, really fast.”
“Oh,” said David.
“What exactly are you looking for?” he asked.
“Nothing in particular,” said Natalie. The bread maker dinged. Albert opened the lid and handed the tube to Natalie. Inside, David could see a sort of sandy goop had settled on the bottom of the tube, with liquid on top.
“Is that it?” asked David.
“Not yet,” said Natalie. She sucked up the liquid with her turkey baster and dispensed it into another tube, adding solution from the third and last bottle. She capped the tube and shook it back and forth like she was seasoning meat. Then she held it to the light. Inside the tube David could see fine, purple strands like hairs. Albert jumped and hid himself behind the teacup, while Natalie stared at the tube, wide-eyed. She looked at David and back to the tube, then back again.
“What?” asked David.
Albert peeked his eyes over the rim.
“You’re a merman,” said Natalie.
David felt his cheeks grow hot as he looked at the purple threads, his mind dropping into a panic as Natalie and Albert stared him down. He had the sudden urge to take off through the window and disappear into the dark waters, but something about Natalie’s curiously beautiful eyes boring into him kept his feet firmly in place. He shook his head and forced a smile.
“You must be mistaken. I’m from Scuttlebrook,” said David.
“Then perhaps you can explain to me why your DNA is purple.”
“Um…”
Natalie held up the tube.
“This is a solution of isopropyl alcohol and a stain. The isopropyl isolates the DNA; the stain makes it more visible. Merish DNA stains blue. Human DNA—if ever I were to get a sample—would stain red. Your DNA just stained purple.”
“Are you sure it’s purple? It looks blue to me,” said David.
Natalie stared at him, unflinching.
“You’re right. I am a merman,” said David.
“Really?”
“Yes. Are you going to turn me in?”
“Are you crazy? A mera can go a whole lifetime and never come upon a research opportunity like this. I mean, holy speaking Silence, there’s an ape in my house, a real live ape. What are you doing here?”
Natalie waved her hand in the air.
“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t tell me,” said Natalie. “I can figure this out.” She hovered around him on her jelly, poking him with her chopsticks.
“Your pants have been sewn together using the triple star cross stitch indicating it was sewn by a crustacean; the subtle use of ultraviolet in your shirt would indicate it was designed by a mantis shrimp. You have several trace crumbs of an extremely well-baked baguette that is now approximately twenty-four hours stale near the collar, unusual for someone staying at the hostel. I would suspect then that you were dressed by the royal fashion designer for dinner at the Palace, meaning… are you here for plotting against the royal house?”
“That’s amazing,” said David.
“But why a merman?” asked Natalie.
“No one knows I’m a merman,” said David.
“Of course they don’t. If they did, you’d be a dead zebra fish by now,” said Natalie. “Mers don’t like humans like I do.”
David frowned.
“How old are you?” asked David.
“Nineteen decades,” said Natalie.
“Not years?”
“Why would you count a year? It’s so short.”
“So I’m like twenty-four decades, then?” asked David.
“Or
two hundred and forty-six years to be exact, from what I can tell. I know humans also age in decades; do they count in years?”
Natalie shook her head. “Never mind; I’m getting ahead of myself. We still haven’t spoken about why there’s a merman in Larimar nosing about the Palace.”
David smiled.
“Hang on,” said Natalie.
“What?” asked David.
She picked something off the back of David’s shirt and put it on a slide under her microscope.
“It’s a dust granule from an air vent with trace amounts of powder from pulverised merish blades in it. You’ve been to the armoury, which to my knowledge is restricted,” said Natalie.
“Hey, careful with that,” said David, leaping forward. David had been so busy watching Natalie with her microscope that he hadn’t noticed Albert rummaging through his bag. He had removed the sheathed dagger and was turning it around.
“Please, please be careful with that,” said David.
Albert handed it to Natalie.
“It’s been coated with something,” said Natalie, as she held the dagger by the handle and turned it. “Is it poison from Aeroth?”
She looked closer.
“Yes it is, isn’t it?” said Natalie. “I can’t identify it.”
David didn’t answer.
“Why would someone—”
Natalie gasped.
“Silence be speaking,” said Natalie. “You’re here to murder the King.”
C H A P T E R 5 6
Not even Natalie’s beautiful eyes could keep David in place this time; he raced up the stairs at full speed and ran smack into John Lotkin.
“Whoa, now that’s what I like to see, hungry enthusiasm,” said John. “I was just going to call you. Kitchen’s this way.”
David’s lip twitched as he glanced at the door. He turned and followed John into the kitchen.
“Albert, Natalie, supper’s ready!” shouted John. “Please, take a seat, David. I’m just finishing up the hushpuppies.”
David sat down at the painted kitchen table, while John stood in front of a deep, metal pot on the stove, turning balls of cornbread over in the bubbling oil with a slotted spoon. An open newspaper was covering something at the centre of the table. Natalie floated in on her jelly, positioning herself directly across from David. Albert crawled onto the table next to her.
“Are you settling in okay?” asked John.
“It’s too early to tell,” said David.
“If there’s anything you need, please let us know. I really want you to feel part of the family while you’re here. Nothing’s more important than a family worth sharing,” said John. He sat down with a plate full of crispy hushpuppies.
“Thank you,” said David.
“Let’s take a moment of Silence,” said John. He grabbed David and Natalie’s hands and bowed his head. Albert offered a tentacle.
“There we are,” said John, looking up. “Let’s eat.” He pulled the newspaper off the centre of the table; underneath was a detailed model of a fortress, made entirely of french fries and other manners of fried potato. John let out a dramatic gasp. Natalie covered her eyes with her hand.
“What’s this?” asked John. “Someone has imprisoned our snoek in a deep-fried fortress! It must be freed by the valiant Lotkin buccaneers and guest. Take cover, noble Albert. First mate, ready the cannons.” He handed David and Natalie each a triangular hat made of newspaper and a toy cannon the size of soda can.
“Dad, I don’t think this is a good time for this,” said Natalie.
“Oh, don’t be a sour pickle. You always loved Fort French Fry,” said John, pressing the hat on her head.
“When I was four,” said Natalie.
“Well, our fish aren’t getting any warmer. Noble Nellie, we must breach the wall.”
Natalie grabbed a hushpuppy off the plate and stuffed it into her cannon.
“That’s the spirit,” said John. “You too, David. This is a fortified stronghold. We need all available arsenals.” David put on his hat and stuffed a hushpuppy into the barrel of his cannon, then pulled it back to load the spring. Albert ducked into a mixing bowl on the counter, shielding his eyes with the salt and pepper shakers.
“Ready?” asked John.
“Ready, Captain,” said Natalie.
“Ready, David?” asked John.
“Aye aye, Sir,” said David.
“Wait for the signal… FIRE!”
Natalie and David released their cannons, sending balls of fried cornbread hurtling at the Fort French Fry. Natalie blasted a hole in the upper corner of the fort, taking out a particularly menacing-looking fry and its potato chip shield; David made a dent in the base of the wall.
“Good work, mateys,” said John, “and FIRE!”
“FIRE!”
“FIRE!”
Natalie and David reloaded their cannons and shot round after round of hushpuppies at the walls, with John aiding the assault. By the time the last cannon had been loaded and the last hushpuppy had been flung, the painstakingly-crafted fort was reduced to a pile of potatoes and hushpuppies, nestled around a stack of batter-fried fish. John clapped his hands.
“Looks like another victory for the Lotkin buccaneers,” said John. “It’s time to bite the booty!”
He dug his fork into a stack of fillets and piled them onto David’s plate, while Natalie helped herself to a hushpuppy. Albert peeked out of the mixing bowl and crept back to the table with the salt and pepper shakers, grabbing a fillet before disappearing into a kitchen cabinet.
“So David, the boys at the CDS tell me you’re working in the Palace, too, plotting against the royal house; that must be pretty interesting,” said John.
“Yes, it is,” said David as he cleared his throat.
“I hope the filter building goes better than your first day on construction; you might just take out the King,” said John, chuckling.
Now that the fort was collapsed Natalie’s cannon was aimed directly at David. She glared at him.
“This fish is delicious, John,” said David. “Very nice.”
“Thank you. Best snoek in the Sunny Seas, they say. It’s always been my dream to open a fish and chips shop. Wouldn’t that be great? I already have a slogan and everything. What do you think of this? ‘Nellie’s Fish and Chips: You always get more with a Lotkin.’ Catchy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s very nice,” said David.
“Yep. Maybe one day,” said John.
“Sure,” said David. He looked at his plate.
“Natalie, can’t you be more sociable?” asked John.
She stared at him.
“We have a guest,” said John.
“Please pass the salt,” said Natalie.
David handed her the shaker.
“You’ll have to excuse my daughter. When she’s into one of her projects there’s no speaking with her. Isn’t that right, Nellie? Though I assure you we’re both very glad you’re here. We don’t often get such exciting visitors these parts,” said John.
“No, we definitely don’t,” said Natalie.
“Occasionally Nellie’s Uncle Louis comes to visit with the wife and kids. Nice guy with a lovely family, but they never have anything new to report—nothing nearly like lighting a forest on fire or the like. Although there was that one time when his pneumatophore sprung a leak in the middle of rush hour, right when…”
David glanced at Natalie, who was still staring at him from behind her cannon. He felt a strange sensation in his chest, somewhere in between his lungs. He looked down at his half-bitten hushpuppy until John sat back in his chair and groaned, signalling the end of supper.
“Well, I’m stuffed,” said John, patting his stomach. “Anyone for more?”
“No, I’m full, thank you,” said David.
/> “No thank you, Dad,” said Natalie.
“Albert, you okay?” asked John.
A burp sounded from the cabinet.
“Right then,” said John, grabbing David’s plate. “You kids run along; I’ll wash up here.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?” asked David.
“Nope, everything’s fine. You can start with chores tomorrow when we’re tired of you. Tonight you’re still a guest,” said John. He chuckled. “I’m just joking, just joking.”
He began to sing as he piled the dishes into the sink, while Albert crawled back to Natalie, hitching a ride on her jelly as she floated toward the stairs. David hurried after her.
“It’s not what you think, the thing about the King,” said David.
“I hope not,” said Natalie.
David took a breath and leaned closer.
“What do you know about the shield?” asked David.
She nodded toward the stairs. David followed her down.
“What are you talking about?” asked Natalie.
David took another breath.
“The humans believe Avinoam gave Adam a wrist band that would protect him from all external bodily harm, and that at some point in history it was lost to the mers. They believe it is kept by the mer King, and they have tasked me with reclaiming it. The only way to do so is to kill him.”
“That sounds nonsensical,” said Natalie.
“It’s what I’ve been ordered to do. The King of the humans saved my life; those were the terms of repayment.”
Natalie floated toward her computer and pulled up a four-dimensional image of Uriel on the watery screen. She zoomed in on the greyish-black band on his wrist.
“Is that it?” asked Natalie.
“Yes,” said David.
She touched her chin.
“I always did wonder how King Naymar survived all the stuff he did,” said Natalie, thoughtful. “He became a sort of legend, the invincible king, at least until the war. It’s plausible. Not proven, but plausible.”
She scanned through more images of Uriel.
“Hmm… There doesn’t seem to be a single one where he’s not wearing the wrist band,” said Natalie. David nodded.
“The humans know merish military technology far surpasses their own. They fear if the mers declare another war and the King cannot be killed, it will spell the end of humans forever. The first war nearly accomplished that,” said David.
