by Kara Dalkey
Oh, no—what happened this time? Nia wondered. Well, if he’s already disqualified, there’s no reason I can’t speak to him now. She vaulted over the wall and swam down into the dark tunnel after Cephan.
“Go away!” Cephan shouted as she came near him.
“Cephan?”
“I said . . . Nia?” Cephan turned and blinked at her. “What are you . . . you shouldn’t . . . oh . . .” He grabbed her and held her fiercely to him, obviously too emotional to use his usual polite restraint.
Nia relaxed against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her even though she knew how painful this had to be for him. “I had to find you,” she said. “I wanted to be with you.”
His muscles tensed. “Did you know?”
“Did I know what?” she asked, confused.
“That I was going to lose?” he said, his voice rougher and angrier than she’d ever heard it.
“What? No, how would I have known that?”
Cephan sighed, then let go of her and turned away. “Sorry. It’s just . . . your cousin. There are things . . . Nia, something isn’t right.”
“What happened?” she asked, dreading the answer.
He leaned down and spoke softly in her ear. “During the Fourth Trial, when the competitors entered the labyrinth, some of them became confused. Not much, not for very long. Just long enough so that Garun’s time turned out to be the fastest. It was subtle, but I could tell. Someone was using magic.”
“They were?” Nia breathed. What do I tell him? What will he think of me if I admit I’ve known for a while? “You have a magic sense, then, like I do.”
“Not like yours, I don’t think,” Cephan said. “But I could tell. It even worked on me. I was making good time until, for a moment, I got disoriented. The sort of thing that’s impossible to prove, you know?”
“Yes, it would be impossible to prove,” Nia agreed. “Your word against the Councils’.”
“Exactly.” Cephan rubbed his face and neck. “Oh, well. As the saying goes, the hunter who takes too many fish today will starve tomorrow. Justice will be dealt in time.” Cephan looked past her shoulder. “I’d better go. My family will want to talk to me. I’ll see you soon, I promise.” Cephan turned and abruptly swam away.
Nia blinked in hurt surprise. What was that about? She sighed and turned to swim back out of the tunnel. The way was blocked. By Tyra and Pontus.
“Mother! Father! What—”
“Garun told us you were here,” Tyra said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Nia once more had thoughts of strangling her cousin. “Yes, I came to see how Garun—”
“I thought you were going to be at the Archives,” Pontus cut in.
“I was, but there wasn’t much for Balasai to show me—”
“I thought you agreed,” Tyra said, “not to come to the Trials anymore.”
Nia couldn’t hold back her anger a second longer. “Agreed?” she burst out. “I never promised that I wouldn’t come. Why shouldn’t I show up here, if I feel like it? I have as much right to see the Trials as anyone! Except, of course, that you’re trying to hide something—”
The edge of Tyra’s hand sliced through the water, coming close enough to Nia’s face to scare her into silence. Tyra’s lips were a thin line, and her gills flared, tinged with red. “You will not take that tone with us. I will not listen to foolish, dangerous accusations.”
She’s afraid, Nia realized. Tyra’s voice was sharp, but there was fear in her brown eyes. What did she know about all of this that had her so scared?
“Go home, Nia,” Tyra said. “We’ll talk later.”
Nia swam past them and headed out of the arena, overwhelmed by anger and hurt. When she got to her sleeproom, she stretched the curtain tight across the doorway. And later, when her parents came home, she pretended to be asleep so they wouldn’t talk to her. That night, she dreamed of being a wild mermyd, swimming in a wide, unbounded sea.
Chapter Fourteen
“Thank you, again, for letting me sit in the Sunfish box,” Nia said. In defiance of her parents’ wishes, Nia had come back for the last day of the Trials, the Sixth and Seventh. The day when the Avatar-to-be would be chosen. If her family and the Councils were going to go through with what they seemed to intend, Nia wanted to be there to witness it.
“What are friends for?” Callimar said with a smile.
The Sunfish observation box was in an even better position than the Bluefin, and on the opposite side of the field. The only way her parents would know she was there would be if they focused Dyonis’s farseeing tube right at her. And Nia had worn a blue silk scarf over her silvery hair to make herself less recognizable, at least from a distance.
She had slept in that morning so she would not have to talk with her parents. Her mother had left a note of semiapology pinned to Nia’s doorcurtain.
Dear Nia,
Some unfortunate things have been said. All we have done, we have done for the best. Please believe me. Be patient. Be calm. Amends will be made, in time.
Meaning that they want to keep me quiet until the Trials are over, Nia thought. Well, I will keep my silence, because it would do me no good to speak out. But from now on, I do things my own way. If they can’t trust me, I can’t trust them.
The Sixth Trial was a test of magical skill and was a favorite among spectators. The contestants, now down to only six, were allowed to demonstrate whatever skill they wished—although it must be cleared by the Councils first.
The six competitors were lined up down the middle of the arena. They had been permitted to choose in what order they would compete. Nia already knew, because everyone was talking about it, that Garun had chosen to do his demonstration last.
It was a brave, and possibly stupid, choice. It meant that Garun believed he would outdo the previous five. To seem less skilled than the competitor who went before you was to earn disapproval from the spectators and, it was believed, the Councils as well.
The conchshell trumpets sounded, and Xemos appeared, treading water above the Speakers’ Platform. “Welcome, Atlanteans, for this, the final day of the Trials. On this day our last competitors prove themselves, and on this day the High Council of Kings will choose who will be the next Avatar.”
Never mind that he was chosen long ago, Nia thought with a rush of bitterness.
“The Sixth Trial, as you all know,” Xemos went on, “is a demonstration of magic, of mental concentration through which a mermyd’s thoughts can alter matter. Only the most skilled in this talent are appropriate choices for Avatar, for their power will be used in tandem with that of their Farworlder king, to make our waters flow, to anticipate dangers, and to keep our citizens healthy. Welcome, then, our last six competitors, who will attempt to impress and amaze us with their skill.” As Xemos finished his speech, the arena fell silent.
“Helio of the Sunfish shall be first,” Xemos intoned.
Naturally, Callimar and all her family moved up to the front of the box. “Helio, Helio,” they all softly chanted, as if saying his name would help his conjuration. Nia didn’t mind if they blocked her vision now and then.
Helio was a beautiful fellow, with golden locks, a long, slim physique, and an elegantly shaped tail. He had never given Nia a second glance the few times she had met him.
Being the first competitor was a brave position, but not as much as last. You had to be good enough to be memorable throughout the competition, but the other competitors had to do better than your display.
Helio swam straight up, rising above the arena bed. He fluttered his tail gently, hovering a few mermyd-heights above the floor of the arena, and cupped his hands before him. As he frowned in concentration, a sphere of pale-green phosphorescent light appeared within his hands. The spectators around the arena oohed and ahhed. The sphere of light rose up, out of his hands, to spin and twirl before Helio’s face. It was very appropriate, Nia thought, that the Sunfish candidate was re-creating an image of the sun in fron
t of him.
He held the light steady for many long seconds. Then, with a heavy sigh, Helio spread his arms wide, and the sphere of light vanished.
Cheers erupted in the Sunfish box, echoed by cheering around the arena. Even Nia cheered. It had, after all, been a fine display.
The next contestant was of the Sealion Clan, a small family of dwindling numbers, who had dense fur on their tails instead of scales. This mermyd did her display as a dance. She made scallop and clam shells do an intricate twirl around her, showing her precise control of many small objects.
Her performance was received with polite applause in the Sunfish box. Nia expected that Pontus was probably making some rude remark, which made her very glad to be where she was.
As the next three contestants, an Orca, a Seabass, and a Squid, performed, Nia curled up comfortably in her seat, a giant soft pillow in the shape of a sea anemone. She wondered what Cephan was doing. She wondered if she should even care anymore that her cousin was probably going to be an Avatar. It was said that youth was brought into the Low Council in order to allow new ideas to be heard, to allow the possibility of change. But now they would be choosing an Avatar in order to avoid change.
Nia was jolted out of her reverie as Callimar joggled her elbow. “Wake up, girl. It’s your cousin’s turn.”
“Oh!” Nia sat up on her pillow and leaned out of the box. She stared at Garun on the competitor’s platform, hoping he could feel her judgmental gaze upon him. He had to know that he was being given magical help.
Garun began like Helio, rising up in the water—but he wasn’t using his legs; he just rose like an air bubble. Like Helio, Garun held out his hands, and a phosphorescence appeared between them. Then he arched his back and spread his arms wide.
And the glowing light spread too, until it surrounded Garun’s body, spinning and growing brighter and brighter. Soon images appeared within the light—whales swimming and dancing around Garun; a kelp forest swaying in tidal pool sunlight; a band of dolphins battling a shark; a city glowing in the depths of the sea. It was everything beautiful about undersea life, about Atlantis. It was a love song in light to the city.
The applause and cheers began even before the light faded, and Garun sank slowly back to the arena floor. Nia stared openmouthed. And then she realized—I didn’t get a headache. I didn’t get sick. No one helped him. It was all Garun.
The cheering from the Bluefins could be heard all the way across the field. “Gar-un! Gar-un! Gar-un!”
All right, he had tutoring, Nia thought, but he must have had the talent to begin with, or he could never have done that. He isn’t quite a nothing after all.
Garun, Helio, and the Sealion were the contestants who remained for the Final Trial. Although, at this point, after Garun’s amazing show, it seemed almost a formality.
“The Seventh and Final Trial,” Xemos intoned, “may seem simple. Childish, even. And yet it sums up the thinking of the contestants, and we learn whether their hearts are in harmony with the philosophy of our Councils.
“It is a riddle, created by the High Council of Kings. The mermyd who can perceive the truth suggested by the words of the Riddle may truly consider himself or herself equal to those who now serve.”
Xemos floated before the three finalists and intoned:
“What is more precious than all the pearls of the sea,
That, at times, must be earned by its opposite,
Yet is more than worthy of the price?”
“Rest,” the Sealion said.
“Um . . . love?” Helio guessed.
“Peace,” Garun replied without hesitation.
A moment passed, and then Xemos swam over to Garun and held up his arm. “May I present to Atlantis the one who is chosen to be the new Avatar! Garun of the Bluefin!”
What a surprise, Nia thought, shaking her head. But she was no longer so bitter. Even with all the help given, Garun had worked hard to achieve his victory. While the Bluefins should be ashamed of some of the actions taken, they should still be proud of Garun. Nia raised her hands to clap and felt her eyes grow warm with tears.
Every Bluefin was required to attend the congratulatory dinner that night, so Nia’s parents couldn’t even try to convince her to stay home. Still, Nia was determined to be on her best behavior.
The Meeting Hall of the Bluefin Palace was dazzling. Lamps with blue-purple chemical flames hissed and sputtered along the wall. Nia had never seen fire underwater, and she wondered if perhaps again the Councils were lending their magic to this special night.
A school of Bluefin tuna had been brought in for the occasion, and the huge, confused fish blundered about up at the roof of the hall. A band consisting of a trained singing pilot whale, two porpoises, a mermyd percussionist, and two horn players made merry, if chaotic, music. A squad of trained octopi lined one wall, shifting the patterns of their tentacles and bodies to form geometric designs, and changing the colors of their skin to match the mood of the music.
Everyone was dressed in finery, sharkskin and pearls and sea-dragon scales—some had so weighted themselves down with jewelry that they had to stroll the floor like land-dwellers. It looked very strange. Garun was at the center of all of them, of course, dressed in flowing robes of silver tetra scales and fringe dyed indigo with octopus ink. He was grinning and held his arms out expansively, telling all what he would do for Atlantis now that he was going to be an Avatar.
Nia sucked in a deep breath through her gills and walked right up to Garun. The crowd around him grew silent and watchful.
“Congratulations,” Nia said with a nod of her head. “I mean that. You bring honor to our clan.”
The mermyds around her relaxed visibly and smiled.
“Thank you, cousin!” Garun said. “And I mean that. Your goodwill is important to me.”
“Your display in the Sixth Trial was amazing,” Nia said. “I had no idea you had such magical talent.”
A smug grin filled Garun’s face. “I’ll bet Balasai didn’t show you where the magic scrolls are kept. That’s because they are mostly under my desk. Well, what used to be my desk. I’d been studying them for years. You might take a look at them yourself, sometime.”
“Ah. Yes. I just might. Thank you,” Nia said. Having expended about as much goodwill as she could stand, Nia made a polite exit and found a corner of the room to be unnoticeable in. She watched the attention paid to Garun, and an odd thought occurred to her. What if the Councils made a mistake, and Garun is the Avatar who will bring about destruction?
But something had to have convinced them otherwise, even if the document she’d read hadn’t said exactly what.
Sala, dressed in bright, frilly pink, came swimming up to her. “Lady Niniane?”
“Hmm? Yes?”
“I have a message for you.” Sala handed her a folded piece of kelpaper and swam away.
Nia unfolded it. And her heart leaped. It was from Cephan.
Dearest Nia—
Meet me by the servants’ entrance.
C.
Nia scraped the pulp off the kelpaper with a fingernail so that the message was destroyed. Then, making sure that her parents’ attention was completely on Garun, she headed down to the servants’ entrance at the back of the Bluefin Palace. Now she was glad she was wearing the blue-and-silver gown, so that Cephan would see her in it.
She slipped outside into the darker, cooler water. “Cephan?”
A hand gripped her arm and pulled her into the shadows. She blinked, and as she opened her eyes she could barely see the outline of Cephan’s handsome face. “Did anyone see you come down?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Nia said. “But honestly, I don’t really care. Do you?”
Cephan shook his head. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
“It’s all ridiculous,” she muttered. “But Garun is the new Avatar-to-be. I’ve decided it’s time to focus on my own life. I’m going to make some changes.”
“I’m happy t
o hear that,” Cephan said, breaking into a wide grin. “In fact, I have a suggestion for a change you might begin with.”
Nia grinned back at him. “Do you? What is it?” she asked.
Suddenly, before she knew what was happening, Cephan was leaning toward her, and his lips were pressing against hers. Nia froze in shock for a second, and then returned the kiss, the pain in her heart turning to joy.
Cephan pulled back after a moment. “Is this . . . all right?” he asked gently.
Nia nodded. “It’s perfect,” she murmured.
Cephan let out a laugh, then pulled her into a tight embrace. “You have turned a terrible day into the best one ever, Nia,” he told her.
“And you’ve done the same for me,” she replied, meaning every word. Now that she knew Cephan shared her feelings, everything else faded away. She had longed for this moment for so long, and it was here at last—even if right now Garun was living the other dream she’d had for herself.
Cephan squeezed her again, then let go. “I don’t want your family to start worrying,” he said. “You should probably get back to them. I can see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, of . . .” Nia stopped, frowning. “No, I can’t see you tomorrow,” she said. “I’m sorry, but it’s the Naming ceremony. I have to be there, and you won’t be . . . wait a second,” she said, cutting herself off once again. “Maybe you can come with me!”
Cephan gave her a nervous glance. “I have a feeling my presence would be strongly discouraged at the Farworlder Palace doors.”
Nia thought a moment. “So then I’ll sneak you in,” she suggested. “After the ceremony has begun, so that no one will dare cause a scene over it. You know all the secret entrances, so I can meet you at one of them.”
Cephan rolled his eyes. “Servants’ doors are not secret entrances, Nia. They just aren’t usually noticed.” He paused, considering her offer. “Well, all right then, if you think it’s a good idea,” he finally said. “Meet me at the lowest level, north door—it is the one nearest the Dome. It will be easiest for me to wait near without being seen.”
“I will.” She kissed him again, a long, slow kiss that warmed up the water around them. “Until tomorrow,” Nia whispered.
