by Tara Omar
“It’s the exiled mer in the forest,” said David. “Rahul is Raphael.”
C H A P T E R 6 3
Natalie and David stared at the mer in the sand, responsible for countless human deaths and merish disappearances. Both their faces wore blank yet interested expressions, as one might look at a complicated math equation that didn’t quite register. The mer gazed back at them with an odd look too deep to read. Natalie leaned forward.
“So that’s him, then?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s him,” said David.
“I expected him to look more… evil.”
“Guess that’s part of the danger, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Natalie.
Albert jumped and pointed to the television, where a mer stood in front of a pile of blackened spider crabs, caught in a blaze of fire nearly a storey tall. Mers were hurriedly directing jets of water onto the burning machines. The mer in front spoke to the camera.
We interrupt your viewing to bring you breaking news from the Central Docking Station, where an explosion occurred in the early morning hours in the main hangar, setting most of the spider crabs ablaze. The crabs are used for cloud formation and were being prepared for service when an explosion tore through the station, damaging at least forty crabs so far. With me here is Wayne Dudley, a manager at the CDS, who was at the scene when the explosion occurred. Tell us what you saw, Wayne…
The camera panned to Wayne, whom David recognised as his and John’s obnoxious boss. Visibly shaken, with smudges of ash on his face and hair, Wayne looked severely less than his usual bossy self when he spoke to the reporter.
“Yeah, I don’t know what happened,” said Wayne, wiping his forehead. “I just came in, and whammo! The whole thing went up. Nearly took me with it. It was something.”
“Did you see what caused the flames?” asked the reporter, holding out the microphone.
“No, it just went up. Like spontaneous combustion,” said Wayne.
The reporter turned back to the camera.
Despite significant damage to machinery, no injuries have been reported, and the Royal Guard has released a statement earlier this morning suggesting electrical failure to be the source of the explosion. The Guard does not expect any foul play at this time. The CDS will remain closed for the rest of the day. We will bring you the latest updates as they become available. For now, expect cloudless skies until tomorrow soonest.
“Silence, it’s just one crisis after another,” said Natalie.
“Do you think this was an accident?” asked David.
“It sounds weird, but yeah, why not?” asked Natalie.
David frowned.
“Do you think Rahul’s trying to kill you?” asked Natalie.
“Could be. He already tried at least once, and I did make quite an entrance in that part of the world on my first day. I’m supposed to be on shift very soon,” said David.
“It’s possible. Either way, we have to do something. If this famine keeps up and the mers go to war, the apes won’t survive it,” said Natalie.
“We have to stop Rahul before it gets that far,” said David.
“And before he kills you,” said Natalie.
“That would be preferred,” said David.
“Any ideas on how to do that?” she asked.
“Not a clue.”
“You’ll have to get the shield,” said Natalie. “Even with the shield Uriel is suspicious, and not every adviser is keen on war. You can further stall his confidence if you get the shield to Saladin. It will even out the sides and may buy us some time before all hullabaloo breaks loose. Then you go after Rahul.”
“It all sounds good, but I can’t do it,” said David, shaking his head. “I don’t have the metal to kill Uriel.”
“Maybe there’s another way,” said Natalie. “There must be.”
“The humans didn’t seem to think so,” said David.
“Yes, well having the shield and Uriel dead would be a double advantage. They would not have much incentive to think otherwise.”
David nodded.
“A mer that’s also a man… allowed into Larimar with the ability to kill. You must be like their golden opportunity,” said Natalie.
“They seem to think so,” said David.
Natalie smiled.
“Well, you haven’t been here long; we still have some time before you’ll have to make a move. I doubt Uriel will seriously consider war at present. Let’s do some research and see what we find. Hopefully we can save the apes while honouring your more merish principles,” said Natalie.
“Let’s hope,” said David.
Natalie spun around.
“Nellie! Nellie! Did you hear the news?” asked John as he ran down the stairs.
Nellie’s eyes dropped to the floor, but there was nothing there. Albert was already funnelling the last of the sand back into the purse with a dustpan and broom. Natalie sighed and gave him a smile.
“Yeah, I heard. Fire among the spider crabs, huh?” said Natalie.
“I mean, holy moly, there hasn’t been such excitement at the CDS in the over twenty-nine decades that I’ve been there. Unbelievable,” said John, clicking through the channels on the television. “Guess there’s no work today.” He watched as a fiery blaze rose from his TV, devouring the bronze crabs. John shook his head.
“And to think I was all upset that I was running late. Just goes to show you should keep your calm.” He flicked off the TV. “I think I’ll make some brownies today. With peppermint. No, spearmint. No, peppermint, and maybe some ice cream. It’ll be nice and cool after all this commotion. I mean, a fire like that in the CDS. Who would’ve thought?”
C H A P T E R 6 4
John Lotkin sat at his kitchen table, hunched over a thin wire of filament. Mounds of glittering seed beads were piled on the table according to colour. He poked the filament wire into the mound and tipped it back, stringing the beads one by one until he had a row the length of his thumb. At the centre of the table stood a sculpture of a tree and a pond made of beaded wire, with several beaded frogs sitting on leaves and sticking out from inside flowers. John bent the wire full of beads in his hand with a pair of pliers, completing another millimetre of skin in the back of his next frog as David rummaged in the fridge.
“Hey you, how was the filter making?” asked John, as he poked his wire in another pile of beads. David poured himself some juice.
“Eh, the same. No brownies today?”
“Not today. I’m busy with this model of my frogs.”
“It’s been almost a week now since your last brownie batch. Are you okay?” asked David.
“Yeah, why? Did you want some? I can make if you want.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Just seeing if you’re okay,” said David. John wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Silence, I think I’m losing my mind,” said John, setting down his frog. “I wish they’d finish this investigation of the CDS fire soon so I can return to work… I need to get some usefulness back into these bones.”
He pressed a knot at the base of the tree sculpture and all the frogs changed positions, opening their mouths or unfurling beaded tongues as though the sculpture had just croaked to life.
“Anyway. I’m sure you’ve had quite enough of this old man’s rants,” said John, holding the wire nearer his eyes. “Natalie is downstairs.”
“Thanks,” said David.
He hurried down the stairs to Natalie, who was sitting on the couch with her fins outstretched, her jelly tucked away under the table. She was sketching something in a notepad.
“Hey,” said David.
“Hi,” said Natalie, closing her notebook. David looked around.
“Where’s Albert?”
“Napping in the treasure chest,” said Natalie. “Did my dad say anyt
hing interesting on your way down?”
“Doesn’t he always?” asked David.
“So polite,” said Natalie, shaking her head.
David handed her a glass of juice.
“So what is this viewing ball exactly? I keep hearing people talk about it, but am afraid to ask,” said David.
“Oh, uh… it’s a viewing, a ceremony about a soon-to-be-born baby. Or at least the viewing is what’s important. The royals are adding a ball to it.”
“Okay. What’s a viewing?” asked David.
“You know by now spinning filament is sort of an emotional and physical thing, right? Well, a pregnant mera has knowledge of her growing baby, which she passes into a special form of filament. That filament gets read aloud in this ceremony. It’s supposed to celebrate the mother as the bearer of life, her role in the continuance of the race and a reminder of the Silent One first spinning us from filament,” said Natalie.
“Interesting.”
“Most people just care about which colour the baby’s going be in its hair and fins though, which you find out during the reading. People like to guess and make bets on the colour and critique the overall performance. The deeper stuff is mostly lost on the general populace.”
“Sounds normal. Did you have a viewing?” asked David.
“Yeah, but it was sort of a non-event since I had a surrogate,” said Natalie. “Nothing like what this baby’s going to get anyway, with the ball and everything. Plus Silver’s presiding at this one so it’s going to have extra pizzazz. Since he’s a conjurer, the jinn translates the filament into an image, not just a reading; so everyone will actually see how the baby developed and how it is now. It should be a spectacle.”
David nodded.
“They’re going to broadcast most of it on TV. You should watch.”
“Why don’t we make it a date and watch it together?” asked David.
“A date?” asked Natalie.
“Well, yeah. I mean we are in the same house, and I could use your cold, calculating explanations to talk me through it, being part primate and all,” said David.
Natalie smiled.
“I’m not so cold,” she said.
“You don’t have to dress up or anything; maybe I can get your dad to come out of brownie baking retirement to whip us up some snacks, make an evening out of it. We can share critiques of the overall performance,” said David. “Or do you have somewhere you need to go? Secret lover, perhaps?”
Natalie laughed.
“It’s a date,” she said.
David smiled at her with the happy look of a small child on his birthday.
“Anyway…” said David, looking away, “have you found anything about the shield?”
“Nothing. It’s really hard to find credible information about something no one wants to acknowledge even exists. Unless you want to take the advice of a certain ‘Kooky Kevin,’ who claims you can steal wristwatches using a tub of butter and a gym shoe.”
“Yeah, probably not what we’re looking for,” said David.
“Mhm,” said Natalie. “How are the filters coming?”
“Still nothing. I’m not much of a help with my inexperience and neither are the other mers. Kajal’s getting more despondent by the day.”
“So are the people,” said Natalie.
“I think she’s let down the most by me,” said David. “She seemed to have such high hopes that I’d work a miracle or something.”
“Yeah, what is it about you that everyone thinks you’re so special?” asked Natalie. “I mean, seriously.”
David laughed. “Yeah, why aren’t you on the team, Natalie? You’re leaps and bounds ahead of most of them there, even with their training.”
“Hmm… a monkey-lover trying to save people from a supposed ape-induced famine?” asked Natalie. “Pretty sure they’d have to be legit starving before that happens, and even then they’d more likely think I’m poisoning them.”
David smiled.
“What’s this?” asked David. He picked up the notepad lying on her lap.
“Oh, nothing. I was just… um. It’s nothing.” David flipped through the pages which were mostly filled with tightly cramped notes and numbers. He came across a drawing of him, sketched in ink.
“I was just documenting your features,” said Natalie, clearing her throat, “for my research. I’m not very good at drawing.”
“It’s not bad,” said David.
“You’re being nice,” said Natalie. “Personally, you look a bit like—”
“A monkey?”
She laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Let me see your pen,” said David. “I guess I should take that as a compliment, seeing how you’re so fond of primates.”
He sketched over Natalie’s drawing, adjusting the proportions of the face and shortening the ears with extra locks of hair. Natalie watched his movements.
“Wow, that already looks infinitely better,” said Natalie.
“Is this how you see me, as an animal?” asked David as he continued sketching.
“We are all animals,” said Natalie.
“I meant animal as in not like you.”
Natalie cleared her throat.
“Well clearly you’re not like me when it comes to art. In that, you have much more talent,” said Natalie. “The opposable thumbs serve you better than most.”
“Yeah, especially for chest banging and finger painting,” said David, handing the notepad back to her. He mimicked a gorilla pounding on his chest.
“What kind of ink is this?” asked David, looking at the pen. “Is it octopus?”
“Yes.”
“You should try drawing with charcoal,” said David. “It’s a bit more forgiving.”
“Charcoal?” asked Natalie.
“That black, grainy form of carbon.”
“I don’t know it,” said Natalie.
“We use it in drawing and cooking and…”
David froze.
“What?” asked Natalie.
“Why didn’t I think of it before?” asked David.
“What?” asked Natalie.
“I have to see Kajal,” said David. He raced up the stairs and out of the house without looking back. Natalie frowned.
“Her name is Princess Karina,” she called after him, but David was already gone.
“And I’ll just be here, drawing pictures of you like an idiot,” said Natalie, looking down at her notepad. She covered her eyes with her hand. “Opposable thumbs… Natalie, how could you say something so stupid?”
She added a few more lines to her drawing and paused, turning her head as she examined her work.
“Monkey,” said Natalie, shaking her head. She ripped the page from the notebook and crumpled it up, tossing it toward the biohazard waste bin near the stairs. She heaved herself back onto her jelly and floated toward Albert’s treasure chest at the top of the bookshelf.
“Wake up, Albert,” said Natalie, knocking on the chest. “It’s time to go out.”
C H A P T E R 6 5
The latest iron orb filter stood in the glass building just outside the Palace, pulsing with streams of water. A web of rust had already begun to take hold along the points and in crevices; the filter looked like it was melting, despite being spun only hours before. Kajal leaned over a computer along the side, which displayed an exact replica of the filter in four dimensions. Glen typed on the keyboard, while the filament spinners sat behind them with their notebooks open.
“Zoom in here,” said Kajal, pointing to a curve inside the orb. “If we add another bend here we can increase the surface area. Who spins this section?”
“I do,” said a mera, raising her hand.
“Add two turns and a jump just after the lunge, to get this bend in here,” said Kajal.
The mera nodded, scribbling the added choreography into a notebook, just as David burst through the door.
“Kajal!”
“Oh, hi. I thought you left,” said Kajal. As David ran up to her, the filament spinners stared at him with a mixture of pretension and contempt.
“What is it?” asked Kajal.
“I need permission to head a construction team,” said David.
“You?” asked Glen. His lime green hair pulsed brighter at the thought.
“Please. I have an idea that might just solve the water problem,” said David.
“That’s ridiculous. You can’t even spin proper filament,” said Glen.
“Well it’s not like we’re getting anywhere with what we’re doing,” said David.
The mers shifted in their seats. One of them complained.
“Kajal, we’re tired. If you want to entertain his… ideas, have him write up a proposal tonight and look at it tomorrow. Let the dancers get some rest.”
“I don’t need dancers,” said David.
“No dancers, what are you—”
Kajal raised a hand.
“I need a fire source and wood, or whatever you can spin that’s equivalent,” said David.
“Is that all?” asked Kajal.
David nodded.
“That’s a wrap for today,” said Kajal, clicking off the computer. “We’ll pick up with any changes tomorrow. Glen, David, follow me.”
The mers picked up their duffels and headed toward the door. Kajal led David and Glen into the adjacent room where they spun the filters. An orchestra was practising a symphony. They stopped as Kajal entered.
“Princess Karina, we were just working on the music for the ball,” said a mer with wild hair.
“Do you mind if we interrupt practice for a minute? We won’t be long,” said Kajal.
“As you wish,” said the conductor, offering a low bow. Kajal pointed to a mer playing the triangle in the back row.
“Florin, could you come here please?” asked Kajal. Florin stared at her. He looked around to see if anyone was behind him, then hurried down to where she stood.
