by Tara Omar
“Until the lone warrior managed to take him down with glass and the fork-tongued sword,” said Natalie.
“Actually it was poison and a pair of pruning shears,” said David. “Poison is the only thing that gets past the shield, and only if it’s swallowed.”
“I think it sounded better as the fork-tongued sword,” said Natalie.
“Anyway, none of it matters now. I’ve broken my bottle of poison and now have nothing with which to kill him, unless there is a poison in Larimar that Uriel doesn’t know about.”
“If what you say is true, I doubt you will find one,” said Natalie. “King Uriel is very cautious.”
“Just as well. Even if I hadn’t broken the bottle, I’m not sure I could kill him. I had at least two chances, but I couldn’t. I know what I’m called to do and why the humans ask it of me, but I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. I’m… I’m not a murderer,” said David.
“I believe you,” said Natalie.
“I don’t know why they gave me the dagger; for protection, I guess.”
“Then best put it away; you need no protection here,” said Natalie, smiling. She sheathed the dagger and handed it back to him. “Albert, I need you to transcribe for me. Do you mind?”
The octopus hopped onto the counter, and grabbed a notebook and eight colourful pens out of a drawer. Natalie floated toward the couch and grabbed a nearby armchair, pushing it toward Albert.
“What are you doing?” asked David.
“Setting up a research interview. Do you mind? Don’t worry; I won’t incriminate you, just stuff for my research. Is it okay?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said David.
“Excellent.”
Natalie wiggled on her jelly. “Ah! I’ve always wanted to do this. A real, live ape in my living room, and one that can talk, too. Who would’ve guessed it?”
She pointed to the chair with her hand. David sat down.
“Are you ready, Albert?” asked Natalie.
The octopus nodded.
“Ready?” asked Natalie.
“Why not?”
“Interview one: background information concerning the mer and Homo sapiens sapiens hybrid as told by the aforementioned, conducted by Natalie Jane Lotkin and transcribed by Albert the octopus. August 13, in the seventh year of decade 1642.”
Natalie looked at Albert, who was writing in the notebook. He looked at Natalie and nodded. Natalie continued.
“What is your name?”
“David Michelson.”
“Occupation?”
“Teacher.”
“Of?”
“Art and music.”
“Place of origin?”
David paused.
“Place of origin?” repeated Natalie.
“Unsure. My memory is a bit shoddy,” said David.
“A merman with slight amnesia. Interesting. Have you always been a merman?”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Three to four weeks.”
“How did you become one? Was it by choice?”
“No, I was bitten by a seal.”
“Serious?” asked Natalie.
“Yes.”
“Which species of seal?”
“I don’t know. I think it might belong to the royal family, though. I saw it with Kajal and Uriel when I was in the Palace.”
“You saw it with Princess Karina?”
“I think so. It’s a little, silvery thing with blue eyes and fluorescent fur. It has nubby ears like a sea lion; I think it might be some sort of fur seal.”
Natalie floated toward her computer and began to type; in another minute the seal was fidgeting above her keyboard, with a scroll of text underneath it.
“Is this him?” asked Natalie.
“Yes, that’s him,” said David, following the seal’s smiling eyes.
“I have here the acquisition record from the royal menagerie. They think he might be from the shores of the arctic desert to the west of Larimar, though they aren’t certain. Species unknown. He was a gift to the Palace in 1598, from someone named Doc. There’s no surname,” said Natalie, frowning. “Where did he bite you?”
“On the neck.”
“No, I mean geographically,” said Natalie.
“Oh. In the River Chumvi in Faerkbërde.”
“Salt River,” said Natalie. “Why would a seal be swimming there? This is getting more unusual by the minute.”
David shrugged.
“Am I allowed to ask questions?”
“Yes, I guess so,” said Natalie.
“What do you know about mermen?” asked David.
“Nothing,” said Natalie. “Mermen were mythical creatures based on bestial fantasies that arose shortly before the rebellion. They gained popularity after the rebellion as a sort of taboo subject, but died out after the war. As far as I know, no one bothered to come up with their creation myth, and no one really believes they exist. Well, at least until your DNA stained purple. Do you know if there are more of you?”
“I was told there is only one seal and the seal could only bite once,” said David.
“Who told you?” asked Natalie.
“Raphael, the exiled mer in Faerkbërde.”
“Wait, so you’re telling me there’s a mer living in Aeroth?” asked Natalie.
“Yes.”
“A mer?”
“Yes.”
“And the humans know about him?”
“Yes.”
Natalie turned and stared at him.
“Is something the matter?”
“We don’t exile mers to Aeroth, David.”
“Are you sure?”
“Think about it. Half of the Lowveld is pining to get there, thinking it’s some sort of promised land. Furthermore we hate the apes, most especially the Nephtalis. Why would they exile someone there and allow them to make potential alliances?”
“You have a point,” said David.
“How long has he been there?”
“Since just after the war, I think.”
“Goodness me, what started as primatological research is turning into a full-fledged historical investigation,” said Natalie, shaking her head. “Albert?”
The octopus crawled up onto her lap. He was dragging a long parchment scroll. Natalie smiled.
“Albert, you read my mind. Oh, you’re such a good octopus,” said Natalie, nuzzling his head. She floated toward the counter, unfurled the scroll and positioned two books on its corners to hold it open. David came closer. On the parchment was a detailed ink drawing of the mers and the humans signing a document near the edge of the sea, with a rainbow overhead. Natalie pulled out a magnifying glass and passed it over the drawing, while David peered over her shoulder. Underneath the glass were tiny words; they made up the lines and shading of the drawing. It was a piece of typographic art.
“What is this?” asked David.
“The Coastal Treaty, the official document ending the war. It was signed in 1616, two decades after the war, when the humans finally declared a king,” said Natalie.
She leaned closer.
“Holy speaking Silence,” said Natalie. “How did I miss that?”
“What?”
“Here, hidden in the lotus near Queen Aribella’s foot. The prescription of exile for Raphael Jahan and the undertaking by the humans to grant him safe asylum.”
“I wonder for what he was exiled,” said David.
“Or what he knows,” said Natalie. “He must have had substantial leverage to receive such deference from the Queen.”
“Maybe he knew about the seal. He referred to a specific story in the Nephil Histories that spoke about the merman and the merman’s mark,” said David.
“There’s a mark?” asked
Natalie.
“Yes, where the seal bit me,” said David. He pulled off the plaster under his ear. Natalie floated closer.
“Wow. That’s awesome,” said Natalie. “And also pretty damning. Better cover that up before my dad comes in.” She touched his cheek. Wispy, green threads the colour of a rainforest floated from her wrist and settled on his neck, just like Raphael’s bandage. David’s breath caught in his throat as she touched him.
“No, I doubt the seal is the reason for witness protection,” said Natalie, removing her hand. “If the royal family knew about the seal they would’ve culled it long ago and updated the records. It must be something else. Something big.”
“What, then?” asked David, clearing his throat.
“I don’t know. But we can start with the book he mentioned.”
She searched her computer.
“That’s funny. I thought I had tracked down all the banned books, but I guess not. See, you’re already providing valuable info. Oh, I’m so glad Dad brought you,” said Natalie.
David smiled.
“What did you find?” he asked.
“Let’s see… the Nephil Histories was banned in 1616 for ‘dangerous and corrupt ideology,’ and was written by…”
Natalie froze.
“What’s wrong?” asked David.
“No wonder it was banned,” she said.
“What did you find?”
“The book was written by him,” said Natalie.
“Who? Raphael?”
“No, him.”
Natalie’s eyes hardened on an empty space in the distance. As she stared into nothing she looked very far away, as if she were in another time. Worry lines crept through David’s forehead.
“Natalie, are you okay?” asked David.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” said Natalie, shaking her head. “Where were we?”
“The book.”
“Right. The book was banned in 1616. It was written by Rahul Jayadeva,” said Natalie. She took a deep breath. Albert scurried to the top corner of the room and covered himself with a hardback book. David frowned.
“Who’s Rahul… Jambalaya?” asked David.
“Who’s Rahul Jayadeva? You mean you’ve never heard of him?” asked Natalie.
“No. Should I?”
“I would think so, if you’re into the acquisition of wartime artefacts.”
“Why would you say that?”
“David, he caused the war.”
C H A P T E R 5 7
John Lotkin danced his way down the first few steps to the downstairs of his house at Ten-on-Farm, singing to himself as he mixed a bowl of sweet-smelling batter. He gave it one more twirl with the spoon as he leaned over the railing.
“Nellie, I’m whipping up a batch of brownies, do you think I should add the walnuts, caramels or extra chocolate?” asked John.
Natalie and David glanced up at him, looking very awkward and solemn. John paused.
“Is everything alright?” asked John.
“Yes, it’s fine,” said Natalie.
“Why is Albert hiding behind the almanac?” asked John. He pointed with his mixing spoon.
“He’s fine,” said Natalie.
“Okay,” said John, turning back up the stairs. “I think I’ll add the walnuts, or maybe the caramels. Heck, why not add them all? We do have a guest today.”
He went back to singing as he hopped up the stairs toward the kitchen. Natalie handed David an open book.
“Read this,” she said.
“What is it?” asked David.
“Just read it.”
David looked at the page; it was an entry in a book of biographies.
Rahul Jayadeva was a psychopathic serial killer largely responsible for the onset of the war with the humans in 1614. Though little is known of his early life, Jayadeva first came into public view as the consort and later betrothed of Princess Aribella Elena, gaining renown as a celebrated apothecary and writer. He was initially well-received by both the public and the Nephtali family and was therefore not suspected of any involvement in the disappearances of the more than 400 mers that occurred between decades 1601 and 1614. The increasing mystery and rising number of the Disappeared provoked renewed hatred of the humans, who were blamed for incident. The growing desperation to end the disappearances led King Naymar to declare war against the humans with the intent of annihilation. After the war and death of Naymar, it was discovered that Jayadeva had been plotting to overtake the throne. He was charged with high treason and was executed by an orca hunt in 1616. In the same year, Queen Aribella had his image and writings stricken from all official history by royal decree. No more disappearances were reported after his death.
See also: the Disappeared, Queen Aribella, King Naymar, the War
“Wait, so you’re telling me the mers went to war because of the Disappeared?” asked David. Natalie nodded.
“The people were desperate. All the best of Larimar was vanishing—the smartest, strongest, kindest—anyone with any noteworthy quality. So many families were getting torn apart, and no one had any answers. They had to do something,” said Natalie.
“So the war wasn’t about jealousy of humans or wanting the land back?” asked David.
“No,” said Natalie.
“And they’re sure he was behind the disappearances?” asked David.
“He pled guilty to treason.”
“Why would he do this?”
“He wanted to kill the King.”
“But I thought mers can’t kill,” said David.
“Exactly. Some theories say he somehow learned to kill and was taking the people for practice to perfect his methods before going after Naymar. Other theories claim he boasted of murder to increase his mystique but never managed to do it. He just took the people to create social unrest and lure the King to the human land where he may have helped the humans kill him. I think the latter theory is more probable.”
“Agreed, though what happened to the Disappeared?”
“No one knows,” said Natalie. “They could even still be alive.”
David frowned.
“What is it?” asked Natalie.
“This is big news. Raphael never even mentioned Rahul to me. I wonder why.”
“We’re not supposed to talk about him,” said Natalie.
“Yeah, but still. All the mers know about it. When he was supposedly training me for the mer kingdom, I had to read nearly a hundred books on history and etiquette and I don’t even know what. You would think—”
Natalie touched her hand to his mouth. David stopped mid-sentence and stared at her with a questioning look on his face; a shiver ran up his spine. She dropped her hand and nodded toward the stairs.
“Alright folks, the brownies are in the oven and will be ready in T-minus twenty minutes,” said John, coming down the steps. “How are you two getting along?”
“Well,” said David.
John opened a door to what looked like an overstuffed coat closet and began digging inside.
“I’m off to the squelsh courts; playing Wendell and Jed today,” said John from under a box of umbrellas. “I hope it goes well. Jed hurt his back last week, poor guy; hopefully I can use it to my advantage. Anyway…”
John emerged from the closet with a bag the size of a young dolphin and a pair of gym shoes.
“David, why don’t you come with?” asked John. “It’s always a good time, and it’ll give you a chance to meet some more people. A lot of old codgers are in my crowd, but there are also some young guys that play there. Nice people, good players, too. Maybe you’ll make more friends. Do you play squelsh?”
“Not well,” said David.
“Aw come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll even give you a few pointers before the match. I might be past the prime, but I’ve still got
a strong arm. I’ll make you run,” said John.
David glanced at Natalie, who nodded.
“Okay,” said David.
“That’s the spirit,” said John, patting David’s back. “Let’s go. We boys got to get our game on.”
He did a little dance before walking over toward his daughter.
“See you later, Nellie,” said John as he kissed her forehead. “Please remember to take the brownies out of the oven for me. Albert, if you could please remind her. I don’t want burnt bricks when I come home.”
“Yes, Sir.”
John broke into song again, belting some sort of girly pop tune about ponies and starfish, which he sang in a mix of overly deep baritone and raspy falsetto until he opened the pneumatophore. David swallowed a laugh as he climbed into the covered boat.
“So what did you and Natalie get to talking about? Anything interesting?” asked John as he pulled away from the dock.
“Um…” said David. John turned.
“Did she bring up Rahul and the Disappeared?”
David winced.
“Yes, it did come up.”
“If it’s not those confounded monkeys it’s the Rahul conspiracy theories,” said John, shaking his head. “I don’t know where I went wrong. Poor Rina’s probably turning in her grave with the way her girl goes on. It’s not healthy.”
“Was Rina Natalie’s mother?”
“Yep. The most brilliant mera I ever met, that girl. And the kindest, too. We used to have such fun together, her and I. It’s such a shame it had to end so soon. Her disappearance nearly killed me. We kind of expected it, with Rina’s skills and all, but you still hope, you know, that it won’t happen to you, but it did,” said John.
“Disappearance as in…”
“The disappearances, yes. Number 369. There’s a memorial in the Palace. Next time you’re there you’ll have to look up her number; you’ll see her name.”
“But Natalie is so young,” said David.
“Rina had a feeling whatever was causing the Disappeared was going to come after her, but it still didn’t stop her from wanting to be a mother, so she prepared for the worst. I thought she was crazy at the time, but now I think it’s one of the best things she ever did for me. Natalie was born after the war, via a surrogate. She’s been such a blessing, that girl. She’s like music from Silence.”
