by EJ Altbacker
“Good one, Shear,” Gray said. “Okay, fun’s over. I’d like you to send three of your mariners to the Stingeroo Supper Club. Have them talk about how we’re preparing to escape using the Northern Passage in the Arktik. Tell them not to be overheard, but they must have the conversation there.”
Shear looked at Gray, his face unreadable. After a moment he asked, “Is this a joke like the victory shimmy?”
“No, Shear,” Gray told him. “I want Grimkahn to follow us, so I need Trank to know. But they can’t say it like they want him to know it. Your mariners need to take all precautions to not be overheard.”
“But how will we know that the stonefish has heard? What if my mariners are too good at preventing anyone from hearing them?”
“Because I trust in Trank’s deviousness.” Gray gave Shear a tail slap to the belly. The big tiger stared balefully and then swam off.
After Shear left, the colorful flying fish quickfin zipped to a stop in front of Gray. He flared out his four wings and snapped them downward in a salute. “Quickfin Eugene with a message from Xander del Hav’aii, second in the Line of AuzyAuzy, currently residing at Indi Shiver in the Indi Ocean guarding Tydal, minister prime of Indi Shiver. Code word: Red Tang. The message is as follows—”
“Wait,” Gray said, and the flying fish stopped speaking and went into attention hover. He wasn’t immobile like a shark, though. He kept the same position by madly vibrating his wings so fast it caused a buzzing noise in the water. This was kind of funny and Gray struggled not to laugh. “I thought your name was Speedmeister?”
“It should be ’cause I’m so fast,” answered the flying fish. “But the oarfish—your advisor, Judijoan, I mean—she said to use my given name here.”
Gray looked over at Judijoan who was smiling and talking with Leilani. She did take time to point at the flying fish sternly with her tail, though.
“What’s Xander’s message?” Gray asked.
“The message is as follows. ‘Tydal’s getting the hang of things. We can meet at the Tuna Run if needed.’ That is all.” The flying fish waited for a reply.
Interesting.
Gray had discounted Xander being able to help them as he was so busy keeping Tydal alive and Indi Shiver from plunging into civil war. But if Xander could peel off a hundred of his fastest mariners, he might be able to meet them in the Atlantis. In theory.
Gray decided it was worth a try. “Tell Xander to bring whatever mariners he feels can safely come away from guarding Tydal. The swim back will take you a day, right? You’ll have to avoid our enemies, you know. Maybe use that flying trick where you go above the chop-chop.”
“Yes, Seazarein Graynoldus,” answered Eugene. “I won’t get caught.”
“Make sure he gets the message and leaves as soon as possible.”
The young flying fish snapped to attention once more and recited the Quickfin Oath:
Through brightest ocean and down darkest lava tube,
in calm water or heavy seas, no whorl current,
nor flashnboomer, nor iceberg’d waters,
no dead zones, nor exploding fire waters,
no seaquake, feeding frenzy, or even landshark nets
shall prevent a quickfin from delivering their message
on time and anywhere in the Big Blue.
Eugene bowed once more and asked, “Is there anything else, your lordship?”
“Tell Judijoan that I order her to call you Speedmeister,” Gray said with a smile.
“Oh, please don’t make me do that, Seazarein Graynoldus,” Eugene said, his face losing some of its color. “She scares me.”
“Yeah. Me too,” he told the quickfin. “On your way then, Speedmeister.” The flying fish beamed when Gray used his nickname. He gave one last four-winged salute and then flashed away with a high-pitched buzz.
Leilani came over when Eugene had left and dipped her snout.
“Not you, too,” Gray told the spinner.
“I can’t salute as fancily as”—Leilani checked that Judijoan wasn’t watching before saying—“Speedmeister does it, but I do want to show respect, Seazarein Graynoldus.”
“I get enough respect, Leilani,” he told her. “Please, call me Gray.”
Leilani flicked her fins up and down. “Okay, Gray. So, do you have a mission for me?”
“For you?” he asked.
There must have been too much surprise in his voice and the spinner’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to be so astounded. Even though I don’t have too much experience, I can do things.”
“I know you can,” Gray said. “You’ve already been a great help. Having you around is like having the complete history of the Big Blue swimming alongside me.” Leilani didn’t know how to react here and waited for him to continue. “Which is a good thing!” he added.
“Okay . . . ” she answered. “Judijoan sent me over to tell you it’s time for you eat.”
“Lunch already?” Gray asked.
Leilani smiled. “Dinner actually. The sun’s about to set. Well, not set, but travel to another part of the Big Blue.”
“Dinner,” Gray said to himself. It seemed like moments ago he had come out of the throne cavern. The day had completely gotten away from him. He became worried.
Grimkahn probably wasn’t wasting any time.
“None of the scouts have reported anything,” Leilani said, reading his mind. “But this might be your last meal for a while, so make it count.” The spinner turned to leave.
“Leilani,” Gray called. “Do you want to hunt together, maybe?”
The spinner shark smiled. “Sure,” she answered. “I’d like that.”
“I’M FREEZING,” SNORK SAID TO TAKIZA AS HE chopped stalk after stalk of tough brown-greenie. Here in the North Atlantis where the water was colder and the currents faster, the greenie was harder to chop through.
“Ah, a complaint. I thought perhaps you were the first apprentice who would not do that,” Takiza said from his position above Snork. “False hope, indeed.”
Snork watched as the betta moved his gauzy fins this way and that, using his shar-kata skill. The chopped greenie rose upward and joined the other stalks that had been cut in an overhead mass that didn’t move, even though there was a current that should have pushed it. With all that was going on in the Big Blue, Snork had no idea why he was here cutting down greenie, and Takiza wouldn’t tell him anything. All they seemed to be doing was making a great big mess.
“Does that mean I’m your apprentice?” Snork asked.
“Oh no,” said Takiza, shaking his head and whipping his tail through the water for added emphasis. “It is too soon for me to take on another Nulo. Please understand, it is not you. It is me. Gray’s infinite number of questions combined with a knack for not listening to instruction tired me so greatly that I cannot at this time be anyone’s Shiro.” Takiza looked at Snork, who was panting from the effort of chopping over two hundred stalks of greenie. “Tell me, Snork, have I become forgetful in my old age?” he asked.
“I—I don’t know,” Snork answered. “Why do you think that?”
“Because you have stopped cutting stalks of greenie,” Takiza said. “And I do not remember saying the words that would tell you to do such a thing. Have I?”
“No, Takiza,” Snork answered. He began chopping stalks of greenie once more. The betta fluttered his fins and the brown-greenie gathered in the water above them. “My bill hurts a little.”
“Of course your bill hurts!” said a giant of a marlin as he neatly blocked Snork from striking a thick stalk of greenie with his own longer and thicker bill. “You swing it in an exceptionally estúpido manner! As if you had only woken just this morning with it attached to your face!”
The magnificent marlin was the biggest Snork had ever seen. He was
cobalt blue on his upper half and silvery white on the bottom, so shiny that he glittered in the sunlight. His upper jaw was elongated and formed a majestic—and sharp—bill that made up at least four feet of his eighteen-foot length. He also had two flashy hooks in one side of his mouth. Though it couldn’t be possible, the hooks seemed to be in the perfect spot to be a decoration! Would a swordfish do that on purpose? It was too much to believe.
Takiza gestured with a fin. “May I introduce Diego Benedicto Pacifico Salamanca. It is he who will be teaching you how to be a bladefish.”
“I can see that Salamanca is sorely needed here,” the marlin said. He tapped Snork on the head with his bill before butting him to the side with his tail. He spoke rapidly and with an accent. “A bladefish must strike when his fins are level, the tail slightly angled in the opposite direction, countering the force of your blow, and your eyes—your eyes!—they must always be fixed on the point of contact—nowhere else! Now, observar!”
The marlin chopped ten stalks of greenie. He went left and right, left and right, and sliced through each of them with no effort whatsoever. The greenie even landed in a neat pile, stacked onto itself.
It was amazing.
The swordfish turned to Takiza. “Why would you teach him this, this, this—horrible form? Did you want to bloody his nose? Or were you teaching the estúpido manner first so he would know what not to do?”
Takiza rolled his eyes at Salamanca and said, “I did it this way because teaching him to fly was even less productive.”
“You can fly now?” the billfish asked. “Salamanca would see this.”
Takiza sighed. “Stop your annoying games. You are intelligent enough to know that since I do not have a bill, I cannot instruct him in the correct way for a bladefish apprentice to strike a blow.”
Salamanca nodded. “That is sadly true. Your nose is pitiful in its lack of length. Certainly not the nose of a bladefish, although you do have many other good qualities.” He tapped Snork’s head once more. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Snork.”
“Snork? Snork, you say.” Salamanca proceeded to emphasize his name in different ways. “Snork. Snork. Snooork. Hmm.” The marlin looked him over. “Are you fond of this name?”
“Well,” Snork said. “It is my name.”
“It is not the name of a great bladefish,” the marlin said. “And if Salamanca trains you, you will be a great bladefish. When Salamanca does incredible and amazing things, the fins and dwellers who are fortunate enough to have witnessed them say things like, ‘The incredible and amazing Salamanca was just here,’ or ‘Your life is now meaningless as you have missed the fantastic feats the incredible and amazing Salamanca has just performed.’ I am unsure if a fin named Snork can do incredible and amazing things.”
“Think of it as a challenge,” Takiza said. “Or are you afraid of a challenge?”
“Salamanca fears no fin, dweller, landshark”—at this point the marlin showed off the hooks in his mouth to Takiza which caused the betta to roll his eyes—“or challenge.” Salamanca looked Snork over, using his bill to poke, prod, and tap his flanks, dorsal, tail, and stomach. “Did you know the landsharks prize catching a blue marlin such as myself above all other fins? They try to do this with a stick and thin rope they call a rod and reel. Though I have given them a chance to ensnare me, none are able. A marlin over one thousand of their pounds is named a grander. By their measure, I’m a three grander, certainly the most grand of them all.”
“Are you through being ridiculous?” asked Takiza.
“My process cannot be rushed,” Salamanca said. “If I make a commitment, I’m bound by honor to see it through.” He tapped Snork on the head again. “Where do you hail from? Perhaps your Line comes from the waters of España, where most great bladefish are born?
“No, not there,” he answered. “I’m from the North Atlantis.”
“Cold there,” said the marlin. “It doesn’t suit me. Takiza tells me your father was a bladefish, but you did not know this.”
Snork agreed. “He never said a word.”
“Ah, interesting,” Salamanca said, thinking to himself. “A humble practitioner of the art of bill-kata. Tell me, what was his name?”
“Uprush.”
“He was called Uprush and then named you Snork?” Salamanca waved his bill from side to side. “I do not think I like your father.”
“It was my mother’s favorite name and you take that back!” Snork said, his temper flaring. His father was swimming the Sparkle Blue. No one should be speaking that way about him.
“I will not,” Salamanca said. “And further, I think he did a bad job raising you.” The marlin slapped Snork on both sides of his face so that it stung. “What do you think of that, boy?”
Snork had been taught by his mother and father to never fight when someone called him names. When you were a sawfish, it wasn’t like being a regular shark; bumping or ramming could hurt or even kill someone. But after being slapped, and having his father’s memory insulted, Snork forgot everything and rushed at Salamanca’s flank trying to skewer him. The huge marlin swerved to the side and faced off with him, bill to bill.
“En garde, Snork!” The marlin hacked at his head in a downward strike. Snork had allowed the taps before, but now blocked as his father had taught him. Salamanca then struck left, then right, left twice more, before coming from the right again. It was almost too fast, but Snork managed to deflect each blow.
“Say you’re sorry or you’ll be sorry!” Snork yelled.
“Never!” Salamanca exclaimed. “What will you do now?”
Snork rushed at Salamanca. It was crazy and dumb. The marlin was easily three times his size but Snork was so mad he didn’t care. He faked at Salamanca’s head but spun in the water to poke at his gills, and then attempted a strike to the marlin’s flank. Through it all, Salamanca never got mad. He deflected Snork’s bill each time, moving and weaving in the water, always just out of reach. “He is muy bueno,” the marlin said over his shoulder to Takiza.
Snork stopped. “You’re doing this on purpose. It’s a test,” he sniffled. Realizing this didn’t make him feel any better, though.
Salamanca dipped his bill in the water. “But of course. And I apologize for insulting your undoubtedly noble father—he was a bladefish and we are all noble, every one—but I needed to see the extent of your training, young Snork. You would never have tried your hardest if you didn’t lose your temper.”
“I told you the boy has promise,” Takiza said.
“Si, si. Salamanca will do this. Soon fins and dwellers will be saying, ‘Look at the great and amazing things that Salamanca’s apprentice the mighty Snork can do!’”
“I am overjoyed,” Takiza told him. “Can we begin his training?”
“Si, I know you are eager for this. Exactly how would you like to proceed?”
Takiza bowed with a flourish. “As you have said, my nose is sadly short, but I think you should show your new apprentice how to chop down this entire field of greenie.”
“And there is no way for you to help in this?” Salamanca asked the betta. Snork thought the question was curious but remained quiet.
Takiza motioned upward with a fin. All the greenie that Snork had chopped down earlier hovered against the current, eerily motionless. “I cannot,” he said. “I am an old fish who can only do one thing at a time.”
Snork looked out over the field and his heart sank. It was immense! He had been cutting down greenie for hours and Salamanca’s test had made him even more tired. There was no way they could chop the entire thing down. It went on for miles!
The marlin saw the look in Snork’s eyes and gave him a light tap to the flank. “Two bladefish working together can do anything!” he exclaimed. “Remember that, o’ mighty Snork. Now come, we begin. Watch until you und
erstand how to cut properly, then join me.”
“I already know how to chop greenie,” Snork said.
Salamanca shook his head up and down, and then side to side. “You do, but you don’t.”
Snork was going to swim forward as soon as the marlin began cutting but ended up watching for a full ten minutes as Takiza floated above them both. The reason Snork observed for so long was that he kept noticing the tiny adjustments that Salamanca was making. It seemed so easy: chop a stalk and move forward to cut the next. But the way the marlin did this simple thing was so elegant and precise that Snork could only hover in awe.
Salamanca brought his head to the side just so, his tail counter-angled in the other direction. By the time the marlin’s bill struck the greenie, his tail had moved so it was in a straight line with his bill. As Salamanca followed through the stroke, his tail went the other way the exact same distance, completing half a tail stroke. This forward motion from the half tail stroke brought Salamanca forward to the next stalk. The follow through from the previous strike had his bill in position for another, but now from the opposite direction. In this way the marlin managed to cut down a stalk of greenie every single time he moved his head left or right, and all the while he was constantly moving forward because of his tail’s counterstrokes. Not a fin flick was wasted.
It was so graceful that Snork’s mouth hung open as he watched. Finally he said, “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“So you see! Excelente!” Salamanca said, not stopping his cutting. “Now that you see how to cut properly, the only way to learn the correct form is by doing it. Today is the first day of your journey to becoming a bladefish as your father before you. But you must join me.”
So Snork swam over next to the big blue marlin and tried as best he could to imitate all the little things he was doing. It was hard, and more than a little frustrating. But every once in a while Snork got both his head and tail in perfect position and it was marvelous. When this happened, he didn’t even feel his bill slice through the greenie. Then Snork did it three times in a row and that earned a nod from Salamanca, which pleased him to no end.
