by Kara Dalkey
Contents
Chapter One
“Nia! Watch out!”
But Niniane of the Bluefin Clan, known as Nia to all. . .
Chapter Two
Nia swam back and forth through the malachite archways, unable to remain still for even a short time.
Chapter Three
“Go,” Nia said, slapping the dolphin messenger gently on the tail.
Chapter Four
“A . . . prison?” Nia stopped still in the water. Prisons and dungeons were a barbarity. . .
Chapter Five
Nia lazily followed the Academy instructor around the circular room, hanging back in the school. . .
Chapter Six
“You’ve arranged what?” Nia exclaimed around a mouthful of minced crab meat.
Chapter Seven
“Are you sure this is allowed?” Nia asked. She looked up at the huge statue. . .
Chapter Eight
The next two days were almost normal for Nia. She informed her parents. . .
Chapter Nine
It was a holiday in Atlantis, and everyone whose energy had survived the parties of the night before. . .
Chapter Ten
Nia swam toward the central Marketplace of Atlantis, angry, numb, and confused.
Chapter Eleven
I must be crazy, Nia thought as she worked at the metal wheel to open the door. . .
Chapter Twelve
That evening, a small celebratory dinner was thrown for Nia and Garun by their families. . .
Chapter Thirteen
Nia managed to compose herself and shut the gate over the entrance to the dry room. . .
Chapter Fourteen
“Thank you, again, for letting me sit in the Sunfish box,” Nia said.
Chapter Fifteen
“A pleasure to meet you again, Lady Niniane,” Ma’el said.
Chapter Sixteen
Nia’s back was hot. Aching. Something was pressing her hard against the floor.
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Chapter One
“Nia! Watch out!”
But Niniane of the Bluefin Clan, known as Nia to all, arrowed her body, easily swimming through the narrow space between the marble columns of the building beside her. She emerged on the other side without even a scratch. “Watch out for what?” she asked with a wide-eyed, innocent grin as she swam back to her friend Callimar’s side.
Callimar narrowed her golden eyes behind a fringe of deep-green hair. “Watch out that you don’t show off so much that you become an annoyance to your friends.” She gave Nia a playful slap with her tail.
“Was I showing off?” Nia asked, although she knew very well that she was. “I thought I was practicing. Training. For the Trials.” Nia did a back somersault, the fins along the backs of her arms and legs guiding her smoothly through the water. Her long, silvery hair flowed in an elegant arc behind her. She took pride in the strength and grace of her body and knew that if she were chosen for the Ascension, her physical abilities would be part of the reason.
The City of Atlantis seemed to sparkle more than ever this day. The high-towered palaces of the noble clans, carved from coral stone, marble, and malachite, some faced with shimmering mother-of-pearl, glimmered all around them. The blue-green bioluminescent light from the enormous globe lamps that hung over the city seemed to glow brighter. The lamps provided the primary light to this dim world in the depths of the sea. To the mermyds, sunlight was a thing mentioned only in fairy tales and history books.
Nia wondered whether the sea siphons and filtration tunnels were working harder than usual today—the water seemed so fresh and bubbly and full of energy-giving oxygen. Or perhaps she was merely giddy, knowing she was the perfect age at the perfect time in the perfect place. She was sixteen, a prime age for a new Avatar. The Low and High Councils that together ruled Atlantis were made up of ten Avatars, chosen from the mermyd population, and ten Farworlder kings. Each mermyd Avatar would join with a Farworlder to form a pair, since the powerful Farworlder kings could express their thoughts only through a special connection with a mermyd Avatar. And now one of the ten Avatars and his Farworlder king had just reached the age for retirement, meaning that a new Avatar would be chosen for the Low Council, along with a new Farworlder king for the High Council. Nia had every reason to believe that she could be the one participating in the upcoming Ascension—being joined with a Farworlder king and taking her place among the ten Avatars of the Low Council. She had all the important qualifications, and everyone in her family—probably everyone in her entire clan—knew how much she dreamed of taking on the responsibility. From the day she could speak, she’d begged her grandfather, an Avatar himself, to tell her stories of his experiences. The idea of finally being able to learn the deepest secrets known only to Farworlders and their Avatars held infinite appeal to Nia.
“Not to burst your bubble,” Callimar said, interrupting Nia’s thoughts, “but the last I recall hearing of them, the Trials did not involve threading yourself through obstacles like sea spider cord through a fish bone needle. Or doing gymnastics.”
“How do you know?” Nia asked, doing a forward somersault this time, keeping her legs straight and perfectly together. “Maybe they’ll change things this time.”
“And maybe fish will grow legs like you have,” said Callimar. Some mermyds had fishlike fins for their lower bodies and some had two legs like Nia’s, and either sort could be born into a mermyd family. Only the Farworlders knew why. “Really, Nia, I think you should have been born into the Dolphin Clan, not the Bluefins.”
Callimar was one of the few mermyds Nia knew who were so sensitive about birthclan. Callimar was of the Sunfish Clan, a noble family whose members often held important positions in Atlantean government. Nia’s clan, the Bluefin, was not quite so illustrious, but Nia was proud of her family nonetheless. “Callimar, you’re beginning to sound like my mother.”
“I’m beginning to age, just watching you,” Callimar countered. “But I suppose you have all that nervous energy to use up.”
“Nervous? Me? I don’t think so!” Nia replied. “I’m perfectly calm.”
Callimar laughed. “You don’t fool me,” she teased. “The water is several degrees warmer near you, and this time it’s not because you’re thinking of a certain Stingray.”
Nia blushed but turned her face away to hide it. She did not want to be tricked into talking about Cephan right now. “You’re just jealous,” Nia argued, “that you aren’t being considered to represent your clan in the Trials.”
Each clan would choose a member to compete for the role of Avatar, and from what Nia could guess, she would be the obvious choice for the Bluefins.
“Me? Hah! I would have been terrified to be chosen,” Callimar said. She paused, frowning. “No, actually I would have been terrified of winning the Trials and becoming an Avatar,” she added, tossing her head slightly. “To undergo the ritual of the Naming and be nearly poisoned to death? To share my deepest thoughts all the rest of my days with a creature that looks like a big squid and thinks like . . . I don’t know what? That’s enough to scare any sane mermyd. I’m glad it looks like my brother will be the one competing for the Sunfish Clan, not me.”
“Now you’re the one being silly,” Nia said. “Nearly every Avatar-to-be has survived the Naming. And the sharing of minds with such peaceful and wise creatures as the Farworlders is supposed to be incredible.” It certainly seemed to Nia that it would be incredible—beyond incredible, in fact.
“So they say,” Callimar murmured. “But I would bet there’s a great deal the Avatars don’t tell us about what the experience is truly like.”
“There is a lot they don’t tell,” Nia agreed. She swished her silvery hair thoughtfully. “I wonder if Farworlders can truly see into the future, or if a joined king and Avatar can truly move mountains with their thoughts alone.”
“I suppose, if you win the Trials, you’ll find out,” Callimar said.
“Yes, I suppose so.” The thought gave Nia more than a small thrill.
“I had thought,” Callimar said carefully, “that you were nervous because so many people would be staring at you, watching you.”
Nia sighed, blowing bubbles between her lips. Callimar knew that Nia sometimes worried about the way she so closely resembled a land-dweller, one of the mouthbreathers, as humankind was called. As a young mermyd, she had been teased about her small nose, small eyes, and delicate neck gills. Even past childhood, her skin had remained smooth, growing hardly any scales to speak of. And Nia had almost no webbing between her fingers and toes. The fact that she was a two-legged mermyd instead of a fish-tailed mermyd only made the resemblance stronger. Nia cast a glance at Callimar, noting once again the way Callimar’s large golden eyes, fin-shaped ears, and emerald-green hair made her the perfect picture of mermyd beauty.
“I expect,” Nia said, “that if I am chosen to compete, I’ll be too busy and excited to even think about that.” Nia paused to drift a moment. She gazed up at the crystal dome high above them that arched over the entire city, keeping the crushing pressure of the sea above them at bay. The Dome was Atlantis’s protection, and its prison, thanks to the warlike land-dwellers. Over a thousand years had passed, and still the ancient prejudice remained. The greed and brutality of the mouthbreathers was legendary—they were spoken of as threatening monsters to frighten misbehaving mermyd children. Any mermyd who happened to look like a mouthbreather could expect some teasing in life.
“Of course you will,” Callimar said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even have brought that up.”
The two of them swam on together in silence, through the canyonlike streets between the tall palaces. Many other mermyds around them were hurrying home, for over half the families in Atlantis would be choosing their young candidate for the Trials this evening.
To keep her worries from growing, Nia reminded herself of the reasons why she should be chosen to represent the Bluefins. One, the first two Trials were tests of strength and speed and Nia would excel at those. Two, she was good at solving puzzles and mazes, which would help with Trials three and four. As to her magical ability, well, no one ever said she didn’t have enough, only that her skills were . . . different. Unusual. Hard to measure. That might even be an advantage too, Nia thought.
At last, Nia and Callimar came to the palace of the Bluefin Clan. Nia gazed up at the tower of coral stone, with its mosaic of turquoise-and-pink shell. The entrance to the Grand Meeting Hall was up on the fifth floor. Golden light beamed out from the entryway, and she thought she heard music. She felt her neck gills ripple and swell, trying to pull more calming oxygen from the water. She tugged at her pale-green chemise of sea-silk, fearing there might be too little fabric in the wrong places. “Do you think I’m dressed well enough?”
“Will you stop worrying?” Callimar sighed. “They’re your family and clan. They have to take you in. Remember that. Now I must leave you to go on by yourself, or else those handsome Orca guardsmen at the entrance will have to wrestle me away. Hmm. Perhaps I’ll go in with you after all.”
“What, and get me into trouble with both your clan and mine? Go on, or I’ll just stop here.” The choosing of a contestant for the Trials was a very private affair for each clan. No outsiders were permitted, not even to observe.
“All right,” Callimar agreed. “Well, good luck, Nia. Although I doubt you’ll need any.” Callimar smiled and gave Nia a brief hug about the shoulders, then turned and swam away.
Nia gazed up one more time at the great crystal dome. She knew that once upon a time, long ago, mermyds had traveled wherever they pleased in the great oceans of Earth. Now only a few trusted scouts and hunters were permitted to swim beyond the Dome, and whatever they found beyond they revealed only to the High and Low Councils. Nia wondered if there were even any land-dwellers left. Given their warlike reputation, surely such creatures were bound to wipe one another out one day. I hope, she thought, that if I become an Avatar, I’ll know more of these things.
She turned and swam up, up, up to the fifth story of the Bluefin Palace. The black-haired Orca guardsmen looked very elegant and official in their black-and-white uniforms. Nia nodded at them, regally she hoped, as they looked her over. “Hey, Round-ears,” said the one on the left with a flirtatious smile, “glad you could make it—they’ve been asking if we’d seen you yet.”
Nia tried to glare at him, blushing furiously. The guardsman appeared to have only meant to tease her gently, but the teasing still stung. “My grandfather would not be pleased to hear you address me thus,” she said in her most mock-formal tone.
“Ah. Your pardon, Lady Niniane,” the Orca said with a slight bow. His cheeks grew faintly blue, and Nia realized he was embarrassed.
She sighed, not knowing whether to be flattered or annoyed. She hadn’t even wanted to mention her illustrious grandfather, as if his name were a magical phrase to make all underlings cower. Callimar would have said she had every right to do so, but Callimar had gone home.
Nia smiled and swam past the guardsmen nonchalantly. The Grand Meeting Hall of the Bluefin was festively decorated with puffer-fish lanterns and garlands of kelp, and the members of the clan were brightly dressed. Nia was an only child, but she had many cousins, at whom she nodded and smiled and said hello. Her cousins had often defended her in childhood against the few would-be bullies of other houses. As the saying went, “Family defends family and clan defends clan, just as dolphins against the sharks band.”
Nia heard a familiar booming voice from one corner of the Grand Hall. It was her grandfather, Dyonis, holding forth on politics with her parents. Dyonis was a hale, elderly mermyd with a long, flowing white beard and white hair and lively sea-green eyes. But he hadn’t been given the nickname Whale-lungs for nothing.
“I assure you, duties that are purely ceremonial are always the best kind!” he was saying jovially.
“But don’t you ever miss being on the Council, Dyonis?” Nia’s mother, Tyra, asked him as Nia approached. “Surely it must be difficult to watch the decision-making from the sidelines.”
“Oh, hardly,” Dyonis said with a wave of his hand. “You must understand, it’s very peaceful, being retired. I was just telling Thaumas yesterday how much he and his king will enjoy it. I, myself, was quite pleased to be replaced with younger, healthier stock, and now Ar’an and I can play endless games of mahresso. . . . Ah, Nia! There you are!”
Nia brightened as her grandfather noticed her. Dyonis had never belittled her or treated her like a child, and Nia loved him for that. She wondered if there were clues to be gained from his welcoming her so warmly, that perhaps she was indeed to be the chosen one. The decision had been largely his, which was another reason Nia knew her chances were good. Dyonis had always adored her. And he certainly knew how badly she wanted to be an Avatar.
“Yes, here I am,” she said, not knowing what more to say.
“Ah. Niniane.” Her father, Pontus, gave her no more than a curt nod of acknowledgment. He was a portly mermyd, and Nia couldn’t help but think that his head resembled the puffer-fish lanterns adorning the walls.
“There you are!” Tyra said. With a slight frown, she tugged at the straps of Nia’s dress. “What was the matter with the pale-blue shift that I said you should wear to tonight’s gathering? It is closer to the clan color, after all.”
“Um, a baby squid down at the market spit some ink on it. Don’t worry, Mother, it wasn’t much, and I’ll get it clean.” Actually, the blue shift was too loose and voluminous, and Nia thought it made her look like a blobby jellyfish. “Callimar told me this dress would be fine.” Nia knew that her
mother wouldn’t dare contradict the opinion of a Sunfish. “And, besides, she said it isn’t really the thing anymore to wear the clan colors at every party—just for the big events.”
“This isn’t a big event?” her mother asked with raised brows. “My, you are confident tonight, aren’t you?” She paused, exhaling deeply. “Well, I suppose Callimar must know fashion, mustn’t she? We Bluefins should listen up.” Tyra winked in self-mockery. Nia’s mother was very proud of having married into the Bluefin Clan, having been born a Seabass, but even Tyra thought the Sunfish acted a bit too high-and-mighty now and then.
Upon marriage, a mermyd couple could choose which clan to formally affiliate themselves with, and usually the clan of higher social rank was chosen. Tyra made it quite clear that she expected Nia to marry up as well, perhaps even to one of the snobbish Sunfish. Never mind that there wasn’t a single Sunfish that Nia could stand, besides Callimar.
No, Nia was quite content with her secret crush, Cephan, even if he was a Stingray—someone very different from her own clan.
Nia couldn’t help thinking how being chosen for Ascension as the next Avatar would even solve that problem. Avatars could choose to marry anyone they wished, or not at all, and no one could say anything against it—not even meddling mothers.
“Go find yourself a comfortable spot on the lattice, Nia!” Dyonis chimed in, greeting her with a broad smile. “I will make the announcement soon; I do not wish to keep my kin waiting. And, frankly, I always hated giving speeches. I would just as soon have this done.”
Nia somehow doubted that, given how her grandfather seemed to love to be the center of attention at every gathering. But she smiled and swam to where the lattice had been hung. It was a tall, cylindrical structure of soft seaweed rope and was the best way ever found to have a group of mermyd gathered close together in assembly. Nia had read that land-dwellers would gather together seated on chairs or on benches. There were still some preserved in the Atlantean Museum. To Nia they seemed like such silly contraptions, almost useless underwater, because what would keep you from floating away?
