by A. L. Knorr
“How did they achieve this?” I was unable to tear my own eyes away from the face of the Sovereign on the wall.
“What, exactly?”
“The eyes, they move.”
Nike chuckled softly. “They don’t move, at least not to anyone but you. Within these portraits lies the history and knowledge of your Sovereign ancestors. Whatever they knew, whatever they experienced, it’s yours now.”
“How?”
“The Salt knows. It’s magic.” Nike laughed, but then her smile faltered. “It’s part of our curse. No one can tell you how, but I think if you touch it, you’ll discover it personally.”
I stepped back, wanting to keep walking and see more portraits.
I walked the rest of the Hall with Nike, taking in the faces and forms of the mermaids who’d ruled our abundant lands before me. Every face had an expression, and the eyes always moved and came alive. None of the mosaics had birth years or death years, but every portrait did have a siren name––their Sovereign name.
When I reached the end, Odenyalis’s portrait, the Hall just ended with a plain, pitted wall of stone. Putting my hand against it, I realized that there was no room for Apollyona’s portrait yet, and whoever came to create it would have to remove the stone and go deeper into the rock.
Putting my back to the rock, I faced the Hall of Anamna. “Polly begged me to come here to learn about the Atlanteans, but she didn’t tell me where to start.”
“She didn’t need to. There is one Sovereign who must be beckoning you more than the others.”
I nodded, thinking of the Sovereign in the blue robes. “There is.”
“Then she is where you should start.”
I walked the long Hall back to the Sovereign near the entrance. She was among the oldest. Yes, her eyes were glimmering, warm and beckoning. I hadn’t noticed her name before, but it was there in thin black tiles and a cursive script.
Sisinyxa.
I reached toward her portrait, hesitating only a moment before looking up at those glittery eyes again.
“What do you have to show me, Sisinyxa?” I whispered as my hand touched the stone.
Ten
The world became a gray blur. Vertigo and nausea swept over me as I lost sensation of my body. Slowly, my vision settled and color returned to the world. I was someone else, but I was simply a passenger, with no ability to control the body in which I now found myself—no matter how much I desired to. I was riding behind her eyes, her thoughts, and I surrendered to the education I was about to receive.
Sisinyxa took stone steps up to a terrace and passed through massive pillars holding up a circular ceiling. The sounds of music, laughter and chatter filled her ears, while the scent of roasted meat and wine made her mouth water.
Passing a mirror, Sisinyxa glanced at her reflection and stopped for a moment to tuck a stray curl into her golden headband. I was taken aback by a detail I noticed about her ears. The small fleshy bit in front of her ear canal––the bit called the tragus––was larger than normal. Aside from this, Sisinyxa looked much like her image in the Hall of Anamna, only more beautiful. Her skin was olive-toned and rosy. Her chocolate brown hair had been curled and partially pinned to the top of her head, held there with a disc of yellow metal. The rest of her hair fell down around her shoulders and cascaded to her waist. She wore a bosom-revealing blue bodice with only one shoulder strap, the skin of her taut belly visible between the tight sleeveless vest, and a slim-fitting skirt made of what seemed like miles of fabric. Leather sandals clad her feet, and she could feel the thongs laced up her calves to just under her knees. Her body was petite and compact, curvy, yet athletic, and she had calluses on her right palm. I learned later how she’d come by these calluses––swordplay. Sisinyxa was an exceptional soldier as well as a cunning Sovereign.
Nowhere on her person did I spot an aquamarine gemstone. I searched her mind for the blue stone, but it was not in her thoughts. She was not on a Dyás, for I understood that searching for a mate had not brought her to this place. Puzzled, I set these wonderings aside and settled in to watch and experience Sisinyxa’s memories. The image had chosen to show me this, so it was my duty to figure out why.
Sisinyxa passed by the mirrors and into a large space over which an open oculus in the domed ceiling revealed the blue sky above. It was hot, and everyone in the room gleamed with a layer of sweat. Most of them were being fanned by servants with simple white clothing garbing their hips, even the women, who walked about bare-breasted, carrying trays of fruit and wine.
She passed by luxurious couches and tables bountiful with food, where dozens of people sat and talked. Most of those present were men, though there were a few elegant and richly dressed (much like Sisinyxa herself) women among them. I understood from Sisinyxa’s memory that these were aristocrats. Some were royal, and many were politically active. It crossed my mind how interesting it was that I could access her memories and understanding of a situation like this.
Sisinyxa stopped at a fountain to chat with someone who was of no consequence to her, only well-positioned for her to listen in on a conversation happening between a couple of men lounging around a low table bearing jeweled wine goblets. I was able to tell, from her memories, that their names were Renlaus and Nestor. Sisinyxa homed in on their conversation while she made small talk with the woman at the fountain.
“You see the woman there in the blue robes?” Nestor muttered quietly to the other.
“How could I miss her? I noticed her the moment she appeared,” the second man, Renlaus, bent low to answer. “You know her? Of what family is she?”
Nestor laughed, low and throaty and full of love for his own voice. “My dear Renlaus, she is of a family which you’ve never heard. Her home, I’m told, is a place so full of resources it would put Atlantis to shame.”
Renlaus gave a small, disbelieving gasp. “This is not possible. We are the world’s wealthiest. We own everything of value for thousands of miles…unless,” he hesitated, “…unless she is from the mystical far East? Is that where she is from, dear Nestor?”
The other did not answer, and Sisinyxa pictured him shaking his head, bidding the other man to continue guessing with his eyes. Sisinyxa was enjoying this conversation because she knew that Renlaus knew perfectly well who she was and was playing a little joke on Nestor.
“Tell me at least that she is no human,” Renlaus said. “A woman so beautiful and powerful must at the very least be one of us.”
Again, a pregnant silence, and Renlaus gasped again. “What then? Come, you have me on my knees with curiosity!”
“She is the Queen of Okeanos, my friend.” Nestor pitched his voice lower. “And she is Mer.”
“Okeanos.” Renlaus, sounded puzzled by this. “I have never heard of it.”
“And you will not, but remember the name, my friend, for it is a very great secret.”
“Where is it?”
“That,” Nestor replied, leaning back against the couch heavily, “is what I am trying to learn.”
Sisinyxa eavesdropped with great humor burbling in her chest. Renlaus knew exactly where Okeanos was, and all about its resources and its citizens. Renlaus was a well-paid Atlantean, an exceptional sailor, and the captain of his own ship. Renlaus had been delivering shipments from Atlantis to Okeanos for years—goods the Mer could not acquire from salvaging the ocean floors: textiles and bolts of fine cloth, colored tiles, mirrors, tools for mining and tiling and working with stone. He and his Atlantean sailors delivered whatever Sisinyxa had bartered for and helped deliver it to their store caves under Mount Califas.
“Where did you get this, my friend?” Nestor asked.
Sisinyxa turned her head to catch the two men in her peripheral vision. Nestor was fingering a bright yellow-gold ring on Renlaus’s pinky finger––a gift from Sisinyxa herself. A down payment, in fact, on Renlaus’s next delivery.
“Bought it at market last year,” Renlaus answered smoothly. “It is simple, but I like simp
le, and besides I plan to give it to Adria upon our engagement after I’ve found the right stone for it.”
“Which market?” Nestor prodded further. “The one in Narisse?”
“The very same,” Renlaus replied, snappily. “More wine?”
Sisinyxa, sensing the dangerous territory Renlaus was treading, took that moment to leave the fountain and join Nestor and Renlaus.
Both men got to their feet when they saw her coming, their eyes devouring her in different ways––Renlaus for her beauty, and Nestor with a kind of greedy hunger that had more to do with ambition than lust.
“Sisinyxa.” Nestor inclined his head and took her hand, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss it so his eyes never had to leave her face. “Always a pleasure.”
“Nestor.” She dipped her chin. She kept her face a serene mask of beauty and grace, but I could sense her caution around this man—her wariness of him was a low thrum in her gut. Her gaze shifted to Renlaus and the two of them shared a conspiratorial smile. “Renlaus.”
Nestor gave a small gasp and looked from one to the other with surprise as he realized they knew one another.
“My lady.” Renlaus kissed her hand after Nestor and gestured to their couches. “Won’t you join us?”
“But for a moment, thank you.” She sank gracefully to the plush lounge chair and shook her head at a passing servant offering her a drink.
The men sat down with her.
“I only came to see if you might have changed your mind,” she said to Nestor, taking a grape from the bowl on the table and popping it into her mouth.
Nestor gave a low but unsettled laugh and brushed a hand across his brow. A ring bearing his crest caught the light––a lion with six legs. “About the council’s position on women in power? Of course not. As much as I want to make an arrangement with you for as much orichalcum as you can bring me, I am not able to work miracles, my dear. Women have never, nor will they ever, have a seat in the government of Atlantis.”
Liar, thought Sisinyxa. She had a strong trade position, owing to the rich mines of Okeanos, full of this old world’s most precious metal––mountain copper, otherwise known as orichalcum. And though she had many opportunities to trade it with the various merchants of Atlantis, only one man––she believed––had the ability to give her what she wanted most: a say in Atlantean law.
Nestor continued, “We do not even allow Atlantean women a voice in the house. They serve best where their skills shine––raising our sons and daughters, working in our schools, and cooking in our kitchens. So why would we ever allow the Mer a seat in our house?”
“You allow Carthaginians, Lemurians, and Agarthans a seat in your house because they are valuable trade partners,” Sisinyxa replied without hesitation or thought. “If you will not allow a woman, at least consider my husband.”
Nestor frowned thoughtfully. “As you say, the Council of Atlantis has diverse representation from many important nations.” He tilted his head toward her, peering at her from under his brows. “But at least we know where those lands are. We know how to get to them, how many citizens and soldiers they have, and many other important statistics, which they allow us to collect. About you?”
He picked up his goblet. Lifting it to his lips, he paused. “We know very little about your nation, not even its location. All we know is that it’s somewhere out there.” He gestured widely to the blue horizon where the wind lifted small whitecaps to sparkle under the summer sun. “Allow us to visit.”
Sisinyxa smiled but her thoughts went something like: over my dead body.
Nestor took a languid sip of wine and put his goblet down again. “Perhaps then we can find a way to allow Ajak a seat at the table, second tier, among the other foreigners. But do not forget that such an honor would never be bestowed without the promise of a steady supply of mountain copper from your mines.”
Sisinyxa had opened her mouth to reply when she felt a large, warm hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she smiled into the face of a broad and striking man. He slid onto the seat beside her, dropping a kiss on her cheekbone. Her heart immediately surged toward him, everything in her yearning to please him, to love him. This was Ajak, her partner and husband.
Ajak was Mer. The realization jarred me like the earth had moved under my feet.
I could only take him in so far as Sisinyxa allowed her eyes to rest on him, but what I saw was a male figure and presence very much like the human and Atlantean men around him, and yet different also. He had a thick solidity, a capable squareness about his shoulders and limbs which left an unmistakable impression of great strength. And yet he lacked the muscular striations and vascularity of strong human and Atlantean men. His skin was smooth, opaque, and flawless, and without freckle, blemish, bruise, or asymmetry. He was dressed in a simple sleeveless white robe which ended just above the knee. The fabric was loose and draped wide at the neck and arms. His legs, arms, and chest were hairless, while a dark shadow spread across his cheeks and down his neck, telling of the ability to grow a thick nest of a beard if he so chose. His eyes were a light crystal brown, like honey, and seemed almost to glow as though lit from within by a candle. Curiously, he lacked the oversize flap of flesh in front of the ear canal which Sisinyxa had, and seemed in form and stature like the perfect male specimen. In short, he was spectacular.
The men around the small table greeted one another warmly enough. Ajak took Sisinyxa’s hand, so small inside his own. The hard calluses on Ajak’s hands made Sisinyxa’s own rough palms seem soft.
“Still resistant to the benefits of having the viewpoints of the fairer sex in your hallowed halls?” Ajak’s voice flowed from his mouth, sounding of rain and distant thunder. I felt sure that should he have wished to be better heard above the din of the surrounding party he could easily have done so.
“Perhaps if we had more women like Sisinyxa, it would be easier to drum up confidence that such a move would be anything but a disaster,” Nestor replied, his tone oily.
“We have had female Sovereigns for many years,” Ajak said, “and I daresay we have reaped the rewards.”
Nestor’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought you, as Sisinyxa’s husband, were King. It is not so?” He was evidently caught off guard by this information, and hadn’t known Sisinyxa to be the head.
“No, I am the Sovereign’s mate—husband in your terms—nothing more. The Sovereign has gifts unique among the Mer. We are all connected to one another, but so is one Sovereign to the next,” Ajak said in that warm voice. “This moment will be recorded for a future Sovereign, that she may better understand where her people came from. Unfortunately,” Ajak glanced down at his lover and his eyes sparkled, “this gift is not inherited by the male of our kind. We have other…gifts.”
Sisinyxa gave Ajak a subtle warning look; she was concerned that he was giving away too much. Ajak pressed his lips together and gave her the smallest apologetic nod.
“Recorded?” Renlaus said, his voice filled with astonishment, which mirrored the shock on Nestor’s face as well. “How is this accomplished?”
“It is a gift of the gods,” Sisinyxa said, meaning gift of the Salt, but she did not clarify this for the Atlanteans. She did not fully understand herself how the memories were passed from one Sovereign to another, nor did she care. To avoid any more secrets being spilled, she continued briskly, “If we cannot budge your position today then let us move quickly to our other business. Have you readied our latest order?”
“Ah yes,” Nestor replied, growing immediately bored. “Your never-ending desire for textiles, tiles, mirrors, grout, and other such mundane materials. We will supply them for as long as your orichalcum remains the high quality is has thus far proven to be.” He lifted his goblet once again. “Your order awaits transfer to your ships in the harbor. Godspeed.”
And with that, he downed the rest of his wine, got up, bade them good day, and moved toward another table filled with drinking men.
“I am sorry we continue to fail in your
ambition,” Renlaus said with what appeared to be genuine regret. “Atlanteans are stubborn.”
“No matter,” Sisinyxa said, rising from the couch. Ajak stood as well and lay a comforting hand on her lower back. “We are patient. Governments change hands, those in power pass away, making way for new and progressive thought-leaders. That which made Atlantis what it is today will not achieve its goals for tomorrow. You’ll see. Atlantis needs us. It just doesn’t know it yet.”
Renlaus looked doubtful but did not disagree.
No more was said between the three but goodbye, but I understood that Sisinyxa and Ajak expected to see Renlaus on the shores of Mount Califas with their shipment by the next full moon. Sisinyxa was as determined as ever to achieve a position in Atlantean government, and believed wholeheartedly that it was only a matter of time.
As I was to see in the next memory, her goal would never be realized.
Eleven
The world blurred into a million shades of gray, flying by like a sandstorm. All suddenly halted and the particles settled to form an image of a place I recognized––the top of Mount Califas. Color bled slowly into the scene before it then sprang into life.
Sisinyxa stood looking out over Okeanos. She was trembling, and though Ajak stood behind her with his long arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her into his chest, she was cold and fearful.
The sound of thunder rumbling in the east was constant, and a dark shadow grew on the horizon, bleeding out to the north and south like ink spilling from an overturned pot.
Mer citizens rustled and talked in hushed tones behind Sisinyxa.
“Come, my love,” Ajak whispered into her hair. “We’d best get our people inside. Whatever kind of storm this is, it cannot hurt us when we’re deep underwater or within the belly of Califas. See how it grows? It’s coming our way, probably faster than we realize.”
