by Tara Omar
“Yes,” blurted Edmund.
“The snail’s unloaded, Sir. We need your signature to confirm,” said the man. He held out a clipboard with papers attached, which Edmund signed without looking.
“It’s ready to leave for the 10:00 Zodic collection, but we’ve had a bit of a setback. A guard dog from the main floor was barking down by the dock.”
“I’ll look into it,” said Edmund, signing the next paper. The worker stared at him.
“Sir?”
Edmund initialled the last paper and handed the clipboard back to the man, hurrying away without another glance. The worker shrugged and signalled to the dock, indicating the boat was ready to leave.
David, who was lying flat on the roof of the cargo hold, felt the engine rumble underneath him as the boat pulled away from the ghostly, underground dock at Tartufo Banco, en route to the Zodic casino.
C h a p t e r 3 4
In a side office tucked behind a box hedge in the Zodic casino, Ibex guard Morne Fourie leaned over a desk covered with mounds of papers. Beyond his window he could see a moonlit park criss-crossed with creeping grape vines, cobblestone lanes and bronze sculptures, with The Triumph of Reason fountain at its centre. Several guards sat at desks behind him. He glanced at the fountain briefly without seeing it, looking instead toward the row of 4-D images emerging from the security cameras.
“Admin, Admin. I don’t know why a guard has to deal with so much admin,” grumbled Morne, crumpling a piece of paper. He leaned toward the security footage. “Maxwell, check table six, will you? The guy in the hat looks like he might be counting cards. Evans, we’ve got a bit of an altercation brewing at slot 104. Go stop it before it gets serious.”
Several guards left their desks as Morne crumpled another paper and threw it toward a wastebasket. “Damn this admin.”
“Are you okay, Boss?” asked a guard.
“Fine, fine, nothing to sniff at anyway,” sighed Morne. “Morgan, if you could check with the guards in the Suez about the 10 o’clock pickup?” He looked through the window and paused. “What’s that going on at the fountain?”
“Hey, what are you doing, Son?” called Morne, emerging from the office behind the box hedge. David, disguised as a worker in a navy jumpsuit and rubber boots, was arranging a stack of orange cones around the fountain. He stopped, looking confused.
“I’m setting up for the installation today. Have to drain it and get things ready. We’re adding the new addition,” said David.
“Oh, right, right. Where’s your partner?” asked Morne. “Jia Li always sends two.”
“Uh, sick…bathroom. He’s not feeling well, stuck in the bathroom. Think it’s a bug going around,” said David.
“You know there’s a play opening here this evening, and everything must be finished before then. Mr Silbi doesn’t like half-finished things ruining the décor for his galas.”
“It will be finished by then, Sir. I’m sure of it,” said David, looking away.
Morne squinted at him, thoughtful. “Carry on.”
“Yes, Sir,” said David. As the guard turned back toward the office, David groaned inside.
Of all the places to hide the shield, Petra would pick one directly across from an Ibex outpost. He set the last cone and stepped into the fountain with a screwdriver in hand, examining the statues for a secret compartment as he drained the water.
Where are you?
Meanwhile, in one of the private salons, Drew and several friends sat in front of a sommelier, placing chips on a burgundy felt table. A stream of wine jumped across various goblets behind the sommelier; it moved faster and faster until it stopped in one of the goblets, which erupted in a column of purple-tinged wine.
“The winner for this round of Dio Vino is Pinotage,” called the sommelier, sliding the chips off the table. Drew sighed.
“Well, that’s it for me. I’m heading home. It’s too early to be gambling anyway,” he said.
“Are you coming back for the play tonight?” a friend asked.
“Of course he’s coming back,” said another, smirking. “He’ll want to see if they get the mers. Maybe he’ll even collect one and try to get Saladin’s reward.”
Drew frowned. “Ha-ha. See you around.”
“Hang on, I’m coming, too,” said another. He grabbed his bag and followed Drew into the moonlit park filled with statues, his face thoughtful.
“Was Saladin’s killer really a mer?” he asked.
“Yeah, he was. I swear it,” said Drew.
The man frowned.
“You don’t believe me either,” sighed Drew.
“Well, the heat does some weird things to people. You were lost in the desert for a long while,” said the friend.
“I was not lost, and I know what I saw,” said Drew. “He’s a mer.”
“Well, the photos from the murder showed him to be human.”
“Bah! Half the faces in Aeroth aren’t real with Niptik around; you know that. He probably hid it with some disguise.”
“True, but didn’t you say you had to show him how to use the needles?”
“You know what, just leave it,” grumbled Drew. “That damn mer stole my honour, my reward, my bag. I don’t need your cynicism to add insult to injury.” He sighed. “Oh, that bag. How I wish I could get my hands on that—” Drew spun around, eyeing the worker’s bag lying near the fountain. He stared. David continued examining the fountain, trying to look as natural as possible. Drew glanced at the bag and shouted.
“Guards!”
“What are you doing?” asked his friend. David grabbed his bag and ran. Drew raced after him.
“GUARDS! It’s him!” shouted Drew. “Help! It’s him! Arrest that guy!”
“Biy’avi, what is going on now?” asked Morne, peering through the hedge. “Seems like there’s some sort of commotion with that gent and Jia Li’s worker. Bring them both here so we can settle whatever it is without disturbing the guests.”
David ripped off his uniform as he ran through the crowd and grabbed a sparkly mask from a vendor, which were supplied to clients who wished to remain anonymous. He hurried to a slot machine near the service entrance and sat down, watching as Drew and the guards ran past him toward the door. David stood up and slowly tiptoed toward the service entrance. Drew, who stopped near the lobby, saw David move from the corner of his eye. He pointed and ran.
“There! He’s there!” shouted Drew.
David pushed through the door to the service entrance and hurried down the stairs, looking for the vent Sasha and he had planned to use if things went wrong. He found it just above a fire extinguisher. David dumped a water bottle on his wrists and spun a screwdriver. He scaled the wall and loosened the vent, climbing into the opening just before the guards raced past. Drew skidded down the stairs, nearly slipping on some water as he followed the guards. He paused and looked at the vent, thoughtful.
“Hoy, he’s up here!” shouted Drew. “He’s gone up here.”
David manoeuvred his way from the vents into the maze of stony tunnels that crisscrossed Mount Leah. When he was deep in the bowels of the volcano, David poured more water on his wrist and held his arm in front of his face, using the glowing marking on his wrist like a torch. One of these tunnels would lead to a sewer whose manhole would open in a safe area; the question was which one. David stopped as he neared a junction.
Was it two rights and a left or two lefts and a right to avoid the dead-end?
Drew’s shouts were growing louder, with the Ibex guards not far behind. David turned down a tunnel and ran.
C h a p t e r 3 5
Liza stood at the front of the Temple in ceremonial robes, addressing the scattered group of usual people who attended the noon service. She called to them.
“Who deserves life? Is there some merit by which we come into this world, or is it by
fortunate chance that we find ourselves in existence?
And by the same token, who then deserves death? For if we enter the world by merit, can it be said also that we would leave by the same? In other words, do we deserve to die?”
As Liza looked around, she noticed several people shifting with quiet excitement. King Dominic entered the Temple and sat in a bench. Liza continued.
“Deserving death is a dangerous thought, though, for life can be taken by our own hand. Would we ever concede that power of discretion to ourselves when we know ourselves to be imperfect? As death in this instance would proceed from the free hand of an imperfect human, it could perhaps be assumed that some persons who meet death do not deserve it.
What then proceeds from an undeserved death? Is there justice for the wrongfully dead? The easiest answer would be to assume we indeed enter the world by chance. Then, it would not be unreasonable to assume the same for the end as for the beginning, which would exclude any demand for justice. Existence then would merely be part of a cosmic gamble, with no purpose beyond probability.”
Liza paused, thoughtful.
“All life is a gift from Avi,” she finished. “Cherish what you have because you know not how long you will have it.”
She disappeared into the vestibule as the congregation finished the closing chants. Dominic followed her, dismissing Catherine before she could enter. They were alone. He helped her unbutton her robe.
“Your speech was really great, especially the part about gambling,” said Dominic. “Very profound, I’m sure.”
“Did you understand it?” asked Liza.
“Not a word,” laughed Dominic, “but the delivery was excellent. Your oratory skills are second to none, I’d imagine.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” said Liza.
“I don’t expect it to,” said Dominic.
Liza smiled.
“You’re wearing the bracelet.”
“Of course. It would be very hard-hearted to reject such a gift,” said Liza, looking away. Dominic fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box.
“I, uh, brought you another charm for it. I was going to wait for the races, but I thought now would be best. Open it.”
Inside the box, Liza found a charm resting on a piece of satin cloth. It was a silver falcon with rubies inlaid. She could feel a tear gathering in her eye.
“La Cloche,” said Liza.
“Now you can carry her with you,” said Dominic as he attached the charm to her bracelet, “so you don’t have to go back.”
Liza looked up.
“Promise me you won’t go back,” said Dominic.
“It’s lovely. Thank you,” smiled Liza. Dominic caressed her hand.
“Give us a chance, Liz. Give me a chance.”
Just then an Ibex guard pushed through the vestibule door, dishevelled and panting. He offered a quick bow.
“You’re Majesties.”
“What is it?” asked Dominic
The guard’s hand twisted on the hilt of his blade as he shifted in his place, barely able to contain himself. “We’ve got him,” he said excitedly. “We’ve found King Saladin’s murderer.”
C h a p t e r 3 6
Liza huddled against Dominic as their dinghy approached the misty shores of Kakapo Wreck. The rusted ships and scrap metal poked through the fog like groping skeletons. She tried to push the memories of her time in prison away from her mind, but it was as though the shadows were echoing them, taunting her. As she stepped onto the weathered dock, her stomach filled with sick vibrations of stress. The battered hull that served as the entrance to the prison seemed to smile at her maniacally, as though ready to swallow her up. She cringed.
“Are you okay?” asked Dominic.
“Fine,” said Liza. They followed a guard up a spiral staircase to a room above the cellblocks, where a forensic specialist hovered over a metal table covered with items. She picked up a pair of Niptik knitting needles and sealed them in plastic bags.
“These are the goods we confiscated during the arrest,” said the guard.
“Was there anything else?” asked Dominic.
The guard nodded to the window. The cells below were completely closed like a metal block except for a barred skylight about the size of a brick. As Liza and Dominic looked toward the tiny skylights, they saw strange markings flickering in the dampness. Dominic noticed a familiar face with a body decidedly unfamiliar; flares of bright blue skin hung from below each knee to near its ankle. Its hair and markings fluoresced and the gills on the side of its neck pulsed open and closed, unsure whether to open to the sea or hide away on dry land, so damp was the cell.
Dominic stared. “A mer?”
“It would appear so, Your Majesty,” said the guard. Dominic backed away from the window.
“Double the guards around the perimeter and escort the Queen home. I want to speak with him alone.”
“No,” said Liza. “I want to come.” She stared at him with all the force of her body; willing him to say ‘yes.’ Dominic sighed.
“Okay.”
They followed the guard to the dark cell below, stepping through puddles of gravel and sludge until they reached the imprisoned mer. The crumbling, cement cell was secured by a barred gate and a solid metal door; the rusted hinges let out an agonizing scream as the guard unlocked the first door. David squinted toward the barred opening, his wrists shackled in heavy irons.
“You look different since last I saw you,” said Dominic.
“It wasn’t me you saw,” said David. “I did not kill Saladin.”
“I saw you at Three Corners.”
“You saw Lady Imaan dressed as me,” said David. “She had a disguise.”
“You seem to be well-versed in disguises yourself,” said Dominic.
“I got the knitting needles from her house.”
“You mean you stole them,” said Dominic.
David stared at the wall.
“Who sent you to Aeroth?” asked Liza.
“No one,” said David.
“So you just decided one day you were going to break the treaty and kill the King of Aeroth,” said Dominic.
“No, I was a human first. Apparently, there’s a legend about a lone merman, the mer who was once a man. Turns out, I’m it,” said David.
“The One,” whispered Liza.
“Yes. Lady Imaan and Saladin were working to smuggle me into Larimar when I first met Dominic at King’s Beach,” said David. “They…wanted me to spy on the mers.”
“What information did they want?” asked Dominic.
“What? They didn’t tell you?” asked David.
A guard threw a bucket of water on him, and immediately his gills opened. David grabbed his throat and gasped for air.
“You’ll do well to remember you’re speaking to the King,” said the guard.
David sighed as the gills retracted back into his throat. He coughed.
“Weapons. They wanted to know what sort of weaponry the mers have should they attempt another war.”
“And?”
“Their weaponry is very great. The humans will not survive it,” said David.
“If their weapons are so great, it seems unwise that Imaan would anger a mer by framing him,” said Liza.
“Tell that to Lady Imaan,” said David. The guard aimed another bucket at David, but Dominic raised his hand.
“So you did not kill Saladin,” said Dominic.
“Mers cannot kill,” said David.
“But you’re only half mer,” said Dominic.
“I am not a murderer,” growled David.
Dominic paused.
“See the rose on my neck?” said David. “It’s part of the merman’s mark, which shows I once was a human. Merish laws are absolute, and their hatred of humans ru
ns deep. They would never accept me as one of their own. Lady Imaan knew if I went to Larimar, I could hide my human connections for a time but not permanently. Eventually I’d have to return and try to negotiate a safe haven here. When I did so, she murdered Saladin and framed me. Then she sent me into the desert so I could be arrested, but I believe she was arrested instead.”
He paused. David looked Liza up and down, thoughtful. Dominic grabbed her arm.
“Come, Liza. We’ve heard enough.”
The guard pulled a metal door across the barred opening, sealing David inside. Dominic and Liza trudged up the spiral stairs to the evidence room. Dominic dismissed the forensic specialist and guards, who waited outside the door. Liza picked up the plastic bag with the knitting needles. Her expression was broken and hard, filled with the jagged fragments of a shattering worldview. Dominic stared at her.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think…he’s telling the truth,” said Liza. “It fits with everything I know of Saladin and of Lady Imaan, or at least what I thought I knew.”
“They told you nothing of this plan?”
“No,” said Liza, “they did not.”
“I don’t think Saladin even told Gabe of this. He suspected something, but not this.”
“Lady Imaan would’ve made Saladin swear not to tell.”
“And it probably cost him his life. I wonder what Gabe will say now when he hears this.”
“Are you sure you want to tell him?” asked Liza.
“Why wouldn’t I? He was right about Lady Imaan, wasn’t he? He seems to be right about a lot of things.”
“It’s just that he already has so much power, and he’s not the King. You are,” said Liza. She looked away. “What I’m trying to say is you don’t need him as much as you think. You’ve grown a lot since becoming King. Saladin would be very proud.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Thanks.”
“Also, I think if Saladin thought it good for him to know, he would have told him, regardless of what Lady Imaan said,” said Liza, clearing her throat.
