by Tara Omar
John sighed.
“But she’s too obsessed with the past. Nellie feels guilty that the mers wrongly attacked the apes on behalf of people like her mom, and logical as she is, she still holds onto the hope that her mom might still be alive somewhere. I know Nellie means well, but she needs to move on, you know? Rina is gone now; her hope lives on in Natalie, not in memories. Anyway…”
John steered the helmet-shaped pneumataphore into an empty dock, sighing again as he cut the engines. David had a slight nauseous feeling in his throat. It felt like someone had dropped a lead weight in the bottom of his lungs. John turned to him.
“Can you do a favour for me?” asked John.
“Sure,” said David.
“Try to keep Nellie away from those subjects if you can,” said John. “She spends too much time with the damned and the dead.”
“I’m not sure I can,” said David.
“Just do your best, for me,” said John.
David nodded.
“Thanks,” said John. “Now let’s go play some squelsh.”
He heaved his bag over his shoulder and led David through the key card entry of Sunny Seas Athletic Club. Inside mers were running back and forth on flashy courts, trying to hit the glowing squelsh balls onto the flecks of light on the wall. Two mers were arguing on the court farthest from the door; their shouts could be heard above the din of skidding shoes and slamming rubber.
“Wendell, you were in the way; that point goes to me.”
“I was not, Jed. That point is mine.”
“Yes, you were. No, it isn’t.”
“No, I wasn’t. Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Are you guys fighting over points again?” asked John. I keep telling you to just play the point over. It’s not worth the rise in blood pressure.”
“Are you kidding me?” asked Wendell. “I haven’t hit a trick shot like that in two centuries. We can’t redo every point just because old flimsy foot can’t return a perfectly good shot.”
“Well if your big, lead feet had gotten out of the way, we wouldn’t have to replay it. If you did it once, you can do it again,” said Jed.
“Now look here, Jed, you—”
“Now Wendell—”
Jed and Wendell began to shout at each other at the same time, waving their arms and squelsh rackets.
“David, can you give us a minute?” asked John. “It gets a bit ugly when they argue.”
“Yeah, sure,” said David. “Take your time.”
John turned toward the arguing mers, ducking just as Jed hurled his squelsh racket across the club in protest. David wandered away from the court farthest from the door; he watched two younger mers battling it out on the middle court, but lost interest as they weren’t very good. He noticed a trophy case in the corner.
“Aw, nice,” said David, chuckling to himself. Behind the glass was an array of different-sized trophies won by the club and a collage of photographs from various social events. He found a picture of John from when he was much younger; on his lap was a baby mera he assumed was Natalie. She was barely two decades old, and was chewing on a squelsh racket. Next to the photos were a few glittering league trophies, and a golden plaque on which had been carved a long list of names, under the title Master of Larimar.
“David, you can come back now; they’re finished arguing,” said John, appearing beside him. David pointed to the plaque.
“This Master of Larimar plaque, what is it?” asked David.
“Oh, that’s the name of the biggest squelsh tournament in Larimar, played once a decade. If you win the Larimar Masters, you’re the best player in the nation,” said John. “One of the guys from Sunny Seas won it once, but that was almost a millennium ago.”
“What happened here?” asked David. He pointed to three crudely-punched scratch marks on the plaque.
“Those were the decades that he won it,” said John.
“He as in…”
“Him, yes. He was really good at squelsh, though he probably cheated,” said John, looking cross.
David looked closer.
“What’s the matter?” asked John.
“No, nothing,” said David. “I’m just looking to see if a mer named Raphael Jahan ever won this tournament.”
“Raphael Jahan… I don’t think so,” said John. “Why? Is it someone you know?”
“I remember hearing that name connected with the Master of Larimar once. I thought maybe he won it.”
“A lot of guys wish they’d won it,” said John. “A lot of guys pretend like they have, too.” He glanced at Jed and Wendell, who were now chatting peacefully outside the far court. John smiled. “Anyway, would you like to play now? I’ve brought along an extra pair of shoes and shorts for you, and the guys said it’s okay if you and I have a game first if you’d like.”
“Yeah, okay,” said David.
“Good. The guys are probably hoping you’ll tire me out before they play me. Competition among the codgers is fierce around here,” said John, chuckling. “Anyway…”
David nodded as he walked toward the court, thinking of Natalie and Raphael.
C H A P T E R 5 8
Kajal stood at the very centre of the High Temple, barefoot and alone. It was late; the stonefish were sleeping around her. Her eyes were closed and her hands were together, pointed toward the sky as she centred her mind. Slowly she slid her foot forward, falling into a lunge as she opened her arms toward the heavens as if calling out to them. Then she pulled herself upright, waving her arms through the air as though conducting the gentle melody of a love song. Wisps of coral-coloured filament emerged from her wrists; they floated in the air in front of her, waiting to be formed. With the graceful movements of a dancer she kicked her leg forward, catching the strands of smoke with her foot. She turned, moving to the silent notes welling within her heart. As she danced the smoke weaved around itself, forming what looked like the shadow of a gigantic dove in the centre of the room. She spread her arms wide and pulled them together, the wisp of a dove shrunk in size; she spun it into an orb of mercury and set it on one of the stone tables. She set it alight and sat in front of the table on her feet, watching as the blue flame carried her prayer to the sky.
Silver appeared behind her.
“It is late, Kajal,” said Silver.
“That is precisely why I’m here,” said Kajal, staring at the flame.
“You are tired.”
“As are my people.”
Silver knelt beside her.
“I hear them crying outside my window,” said Kajal, “accusing us of such hateful things. The people want answers, and I have none to give. I pray and ask and try and fail, and I hear nothing. Will I ever hear an answer?”
Silver slid his fingers into her hair, turning her face toward him as he cupped her chin with his hands. He stared into her teary eyes; it was as if they were the only souls in the universe, just him, her and Silence, with every emotion in existence held between them. He frowned.
“Go home, Kajal,” said Silver, releasing her face. He turned away from her as Kajal stood up, wiping her eyes.
“Good night,” said Kajal. She left through the doors without looking back, while Silver watched after her with his hands pressed to his face, breathing deeply as he lost himself in his thoughts.
C H A P T E R 5 9
David brushed his teeth in the downstairs bathroom of the Lotkin house, his eyes heavy and ready for sleep. Natalie and John had laid everything out for him as though he were in a hotel. As he slipped into a pair of flamboyant pyjamas they had left him David couldn’t help but have a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, as though he were living in one of those picturesque scenes on the front of holiday cards. Next to his pyjamas was a pair of slippers shaped like abalones; he put them on and shuffled
toward his room, listening to the sound of John moving around upstairs. He glanced toward Natalie’s door, which was closed shut for the night. David opened his door.
The spare bedroom had the same pearl bed David had used in Raphael’s house, except it was suspended from the ceiling. Underneath it was a writing desk, a small chest of drawers and a comfy, wing-backed chair in which Natalie was sitting with her legs outstretched on an ottoman, reading a book. Albert was cuddled alongside her. She looked at David’s feet and smiled.
“Nice slippers,” said Natalie.
“Thank you,” said David. “Do I have the wrong room?”
“No, this is your room. I’ve been waiting for you,” said Natalie, turning a page in her book. She shook her head. “Rahul’s writing in the Nephil Histories is so nice-sounding. He says all these things about living in harmony with the humans and the universe; you would never know he would do such horrendous acts by the way he writes. It’s almost creepy, like you can’t trust anyone.”
“You’ve read the book already?” asked David.
“Mhm. Twice,” said Natalie. “I would have gone through it more if it hadn’t taken me three dodgy booksellers and a couple of hard bargains to find it. It was Albert who finally got it for me. Isn’t that right, my little coconut? Oh, you’re such a good octopus.”
She lifted Albert to her cheek and nuzzled his head to her nose. David smiled.
“Natalie, this thing about Rahul, I think we should just leave it alone,” said David.
“Leave it alone?” asked Natalie. “This is the best information I’ve had in a long time concerning the war—possibly ever. Why would I just leave it?”
David looked at his feet.
“My dad spoke to you, didn’t he?” asked Natalie.
“He told me about your mom.”
“And he told you to distract me?”
David didn’t answer.
“Papa mer means well, but some days…”
She paused.
“Wait a minute,” said Natalie.
“What?” asked David.
“You’ve found something. I can see it in your eyes.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Yes you have, or at least you think you have. What is it?”
“I think your dad’s right,” said David. “This guy’s not worth obsessing over.”
“David, don’t mess with me. You’ve found something, and you’re going to tell me. I am not leaving this spot until you do.”
“Wow, if I had known it was this easy to get a girl in my bedroom…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” said David.
Natalie glared at him.
“Well?” asked Natalie.
David sighed.
“You said Rahul was betrothed to Aribella, right? What happened to her after Rahul was condemned?” asked David.
“She was heartbroken, of course,” said Natalie. “Ended up marrying her cousin, Uriel. She died shortly after giving birth.”
“To Kajal?” asked David.
“To Princess Karina, yes,” said Natalie.
David frowned.
“What is it?” asked Natalie.
“I think Raphael might be Rahul,” said David.
“What?”
“When I was playing squelsh with your dad I noticed a plaque with all the names of the Larimar Masters tournament winners. Rahul’s name was blotted out,” said David.
“And?”
“Raphael has a squelsh court in his house where he’s known as Master of Larimar. And he’s good at playing squelsh. Really good,” said David. Natalie stared at him.
“Is that it?” asked Natalie.
“Well, yeah,” said David.
Natalie smiled.
“David, thousands upon thousands of mers play squelsh, and all of them wish to win the Larimar Masters someday. That’s hardly damning evidence.”
“Raphael also was in love with a girl who died,” said David.
“Well, by those criteria you could also say my dad is Rahul. I don’t think that gets you very far,” said Natalie.
“Yes, but your dad isn’t sitting in Faerkbërde, exiled for no apparent reason,” said David.
“True,” said Natalie.
“Raphael said his mera friend used to come visit him in exile. What if that friend was Queen Aribella?” asked David. “I mean, think about it. You said yourself that no one knows what happened to the Disappeared. Maybe Aribella arranged for his exile and continued to visit him because she still loved him. Or maybe she did so to try and negotiate the release of the Disappeared. There are two plausible motives right there.”
“If she did these things, and if he or the Disappeared are still alive,” said Natalie, folding her arms.
“Natalie, Raphael tried to kill me,” said David. “He’s supposed to be allied with the humans, yet he didn’t want me coming to Larimar or taking the shield. At the time I thought he was switching allegiances back to the merish side, perhaps because of an impending war; now I’m wondering if maybe he’s orchestrating the whole thing, and he didn’t want me interfering. I mean, honestly, what was that seal doing in the river? He probably knew him from his days at the Palace and now uses him to spy on the royal family. He never counted on anyone getting bitten because no one goes into that forest, which is why he wants to murder me.”
“This is a very interesting conspiracy theory,” said Natalie, looking toward the ceiling, “but it’s still a theory. There’s nothing you’ve said that necessitates Raphael be Rahul. Raphael could be a former disciple of Rahul, an admirer, or even just a well-read, racist mer.”
David paused. He shook his head.
“No, I know it’s him. It has to be.”
“Don’t let your bias affect your research,” said Natalie, waving her finger.
“There’s also the story of the Leviathan,” said David, thoughtful.
“Leviathan?” asked Natalie.
“The merish assassin who tried to kill off the humans,” said David.
“I’ve never heard of this,” said Natalie.
“The humans—“
“Wait. You’re about to say something fascinating; I want it recorded,” said Natalie. She pulled a pen and pad of paper from a drawer near her chair and handed it to Albert.
“Proceed,” she said. David continued.
“The humans have this legend that long ago an evil mer tried to assassinate Adam and his wife with poison, but the attempt failed and Avinoam punished this assassin by turning him into a water snake. Their high priest thinks this snake somehow came back as a human and is again out for their destruction.”
“That’s… inventive,” said Natalie. “So you’re saying…?”
“What if she’s not entirely wrong? What if someone has been trying to destroy the humans all along, and that someone is Rahul disguised as Raphael? Maybe King Naymar’s death was unintentional and he’s now working to finish what he started. Think about it.. It would explain the mysterious famine, the impending war and the attempts on my life. If I’m right we may even be able to discover what happened to the Disappeared. It would mean Rahul is still alive in the forest.”
“And you base all of this on an apish legend and a mer’s sport and literature preferences?”
David frowned.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong; you’re just making a lot of arguments at once. Raphael could be Rahul, or he could not be. He could be causing the famine now or have nothing to do with it. His motive could be the destruction of humans or something else entirely. We really don’t know,” said Natalie. “You also don’t have a lot of time. If you do need to get the shield to save the humans, you’ll have to do it before the Palace discovers you’re not on the register. You can’t get lost in too many things.”
“
I agree, but if we can figure out what or who is really behind the famine, maybe we can prevent a second war without me killing anyone,” said David.
“Did anyone else think this ‘reborn Leviathan’ character might be Raphael?” asked Natalie.
“King Saladin seemed to dislike him, but as far as I know, no one else even knows he’s there,” said David.
“This is going to be a tough one. Rahul was declared dead and buried long ago. We definitely need more evidence. Do you remember anything else that could be useful before we get into forensics?”
“No,” said David, “but I think I know someone who does.”
C H A P T E R 6 0
Silver sat atop the stone table along the wall of the High Temple, brooding over a chessboard of sea creatures made from colourful crystal. The stonefish in the ponds sat motionless as usual, while the air hung lazily between them, as though the whole Temple had taken an afternoon siesta. Silver moved a centre prawn forward two spaces, just as David barged through the door, ruffling the air. Silver slid the queen across the board, taking a bishop from the side he had just played.
“Interesting game from your world, this chess,” said Silver, eyeing the pieces. “The queen is so flexible. She moves any way you want her to.”
“Yes,” said David, glancing at the board. He leaned against the table with an aura of agitated excitement, like a fly around a herd of sleeping sea cows. Silver continued playing.
“So about me and the King,” said David, “if you’re really omniscient as you say, you’ll already know that as much as I don’t want to see the humans get slaughtered in another war, I really don’t want to be harming anyone in any sort of preventative measure. You should also know that my ability to inflict the aforementioned harm has been greatly lessened since I broke the bottle of poison. Now, I think I may have figured a way around both the harming and the slaughtering, but to do so I am in need of some information concerning the identity of a certain mer in the Forest of Faerkbërde. If you could please tell me what you know of him, particularly if he is Rahul and if he is causing the famine, it would be greatly appreciated.”
