by Matt Larkin
And so he had met Brine. It was a pirate’s name, though the man was no pirate. Just another mirage on the horizon, an illusion to keep anyone from discerning the truth. Brine was the voice behind the Society, the voice of yet another power. If you peeled back all the layers of this onion you would find its rotten core as the ultimate ruler of the world.
Brine’s office was a shack on the Pier’s edge, accessible only by a long, winding boardwalk and steps descending to be almost level with the water’s edge. As the man’s name implied, the whole building stank of something dredged up from the ocean depths.
“Stay here and watch my back,” he told Inemes when they reached the edge of the shack.
She tapped a finger on the saber at her side. It was steel—making it rare and valuable enough in and of itself—and had been his gift to her when he made her his first mate. In this whole damn city she was the only one he would trust not to stab him in the back, literally, or spy on him for Brine and his associates.
“This plan is beyond foolish,” she commented. “You know we’d have to pass through the Pirate Nations, the Serpent Reaches, and beyond even Kahiki. No one’s ever been that far.”
He nodded. No one had. She knew him well enough to know that was part of the appeal of this … Sawaiki. A new land, unknown to his people.
Pasikole rapped on the door, then entered when a voice called from within. The man, Brine, sat dangling his feet through a hole in the floor. The water had to be freezing this time of year, but he didn’t seem to mind or even notice. Quite likely he was not entirely human, at least not anymore. The gods only knew what those things had done to him.
“I see you received word of the mission.”
Pasikole shut the door behind him. Inemes would probably listen through it anyway, but he should try to remain subtle here.
“It’s dangerous.”
Brine waved the comment away, fingers dripping with some goo. The bowl in front of him housed raw fish eggs. “Of course it is.” The man sucked his forefinger. “That’s why we need the fearless Captain Pasikole. Are you not the man who charted Kahiki and made it back to tell the tale?”
Pasikole folded his arms.
“All you have to do is grab one girl and bring her back to my associates.”
“Why is she so special?”
“She has a Gift.”
He knew it. Jobs like this had allowed him to procure forgotten tomes from before the Worldsea rose. Translating them had been the work of years—still he was fairly certain he had things right—but they spoke of a time when gods walked the Earth. A time when mankind had mastered the Art. And somehow, this princess of Sawaiki had the blood of a divine ancestor coursing through her veins. She could be the key to unlocking mankind’s heritage.
The mer and he’e were physically more powerful than humans. Stronger, much faster swimmers, and, of course, able to navigate much more of the Earth. But what really ensured mankind could never challenge them, never be more than subservient, was their mastery of the Art. His travels had introduced him to a handful of witches, medicine men, and shamans. Those who weren’t charlatans tended to go mad by whatever they glimpsed in the worlds beyond this one. Still. There had to be a way to even the playing field.
Knowledge was power, all knowledge valuable. But he could map the entire world, chart every star in the sky, work mathematical formulae until the day he died … and none of that would compare to a single unambiguous revelation of the supernatural.
“Don’t worry,” Brine said. “We’ll provide you with everything you need to convince them you’re sent by one of their gods. Our spies can even tell you the best day to make land.”
He shrugged, trying his best to feign nonchalance. “This is a bigger task than any I’ve done so far.”
“We might have uncovered a cask of tomes from the old world.”
Tempting. All knowledge of the time before the Worldsea was valuable. But it wasn’t enough.
He shook his head. “Getting to Kahiki means risking my life, the lives of my entire crew. For that I want the tomes … and one that explains the Art.”
Brine narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then we have nothing else to discuss.” Pasikole turned his back on the man—or thing, as the case might well have been.
His hand was already on the door before Brine spoke.
“Wait.”
Pasikole turned slowly back. Finally. He need only deliver this princess, and mankind would be on course back to greatness.
At least, Pasikole had thought he was helping people. He had told himself that, told the crew that, over the long months of this journey. But after meeting the Sawaikians, knowledge no longer seemed worth the price.
And, in truth, he probably could not have brought Namaka anywhere against her will. Her power could have swamped their ship before they had made a league away from the Valley Isle.
But that wasn’t the reason he hadn’t kidnapped her.
He had been wrong, not in his pursuit of knowledge, but in being willing to hurt the innocent for the greater good.
Now he was left with only the desperate option of trusting the wereboar, hoping Kamapua’a was right about this other Princess.
15
Evening arrived before Namaka and Ake returned to Hiyoya, and the city’s lights once again illuminated the darkening sea. After witnessing the carnage in the wake of the mer war, somehow Hiyoya had lost some of its majesty for Namaka.
You’ve seen death before.
Namaka started at the sudden return of Nyi Rara’s voice. The mermaid princess sounded breathless, if such a thing were possible for a disembodied voice. Breathless and groggy. And though it was a comfort to have the mermaid back, it was a small comfort. Yes, she had seen death, and all too recently. The deaths of her villagers, of Hau-Pu, who had—maybe—loved her. Of Kāne knew how many others after her loss of control that day … was it really only yesterday?
Nyi Rara offered no further comment as Namaka swam through the palace.
“She’s back,” she whispered.
Ake glanced at her, then nodded. “I have to inform her majesty about the loss.”
“Loss? That looked like a massacre.”
The merman scowled. “Well, then you know why we have to stop the Muians. Unless you’d like to see this city wind up looking like that battlefield.”
The very thought of it soured her stomach. To see this beautiful city awash in blood, the waters obscured by the frenzy of sharks … it was some primal, blasphemous violation of kapu. She could almost see her uncle trying to propitiate the ghosts born of such madness and not knowing where to start. Uncle Kamalo. More than anything, Namaka wanted to run to him, to lay her head on his ever-growing gut and feel his riotous laughter rumble through her, promising all would be well.
Ake must have seen the pain on her face, because he offered a nod, then swam down the hall.
Had she welcomed her new life here? Thought it so much easier, so much more beautiful than suffocating beneath the weight of her ever-present destiny as a Princess? She’d run from that life only to find the alternatives were equally horrifying. Part of her just wanted to go home.
And abandon another people?
Who on Lua-O-Milu did that mermaid think she was? The mermaid princess could go fuck herself in a clamshell for all Namaka cared. Damn her for being so … so … damned … right. One day in Hiyoya and things had gone as horribly wrong as they had in the village. And Namaka’s answer was the same: run away. But what could she do? She couldn’t control her Gift, and trying to do so had driven Nyi Rara into a torpor that had taken the better part of a day to recover from.
I am not recovered … I need rest …
Namaka frowned at the thought of another person—or whatever—sleeping inside her body. So much about being a mermaid felt off, and yet also so right. The part of her that was the Princess of Sea loved her new form, her new reality. But Nyi Rara wasn’t half as for
thcoming as Namaka might have hoped. No matter where she turned, her life seemed flawed. On Sawaiki she was a slave, and down here, she was a host.
A slow shift in color above drew her eye, as a he’e seemed to melt off the ceiling. Namaka’s heart lurched in her throat and, before she had even thought it, a beat of her tail had carried her several paces away.
It was like a waking dream, a reminder of the visions the Urchin had poured into her mind.
“What do you want?” It had to be Ambassador Punga—unless there was another he’e in the palace. How would she even tell the difference? The creatures could shift their skin to any coloration they wanted. How did they tell each other apart?
“Conversations spoken loudly and with fervor pose little difficulty to overhear, even when one makes no effort at eavesdropping.” Once again, the creature’s voice sounded alien, muffled, and thick, emanating from beneath all those arms. “Condolences are due for such losses, one must think. Hiyoya fairs poorly, it seems.”
Namaka glowered at the octopus a moment, then had to look away. Those fathomless eyes made it hard to tell if he was looking at her, or what he—assuming the he’e was even male—saw when he did. “Sure, fine. Condolences. Sounds about as useful as a surfboard atop a volcano.”
The coil of arms beneath the creature shifted, propelled it forward just slightly, causing its head to bob. Was that a nod? A shrug? Some alien gesture she had no word for? The he’e had no face, really, just those eyes—black as a starless night. “The Princess asks no question, but still, one might think she desires an answer.”
Namaka threw up her hands. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe an answer that involved actually saving people.”
“In conflicts between mer nations, the he’e remain bound, always officially neutral.” Which made them officially useless right now. “One might wish there were more solace to offer to one’s friends at such a time, of course. But such things are a matter of politics … complex interrelations between kingdoms giving rise to paralysis on the part of all parties. You understand, one must imagine.”
Not really—the octopus’s words were as tangled as his arms. Politics. What a pointless excuse for inaction. It was like Punga cared, but not quite enough to swim through the hoops of formality. He had said they were officially neutral. If they lived by their rules like her people lived by kapu, then he couldn’t overstep what he perceived as his bounds. But maybe those bounds could be changed.
Was that what the Urchin had tried to show her? That the he’e could be useful if she could find the right way to ask?
“What if Hiyoya were to offer a treaty, to ask for aid?”
Once again, the octopus’s arms shifted in some inconceivable gesture, almost like they were discussing the idea among themselves. Strange and frightening as the he’e were, Ake had called them ancient. They might make formidable allies. “Any request must naturally depend on the asker and the terms offered.”
That was pretty much a yes. Namaka darted several paces away, then spun back to look at Punga. “Uh, one moment. I mean, I’ll be right back!”
She bolted into the throne room as Ake and Latmikaik were discussing the massacre, or its aftermath. A stir went up among the gathered mer, but none dared interfere with her. She was a princess even down here, after all.
“Uh …” The whole plan had seemed more refined before she tried to put it into words. “Aunt … I mean, my queen. There’s something I …” Namaka cleared her throat. Now would be a good time for Nyi Rara to take over and be all elegant and regal. And … nothing. She twirled her tail, although the gesture felt clumsy compared to the elegance with which Nyi Rara performed it. “Ake has informed you about the battle.”
Latmikaik raised an eyebrow, then reclined her head into one of her palms.
Great. The almighty mermaid queen probably knew it was some stupid human—mostly human—host talking and not her niece. Fine. “I just spoke to the he’e ambassador and he sympathizes with our losses.”
The queen did not speak for a moment. When she did, all heads turned to her. “The he’e care only about the he’e.”
“They have political interests, my queen, I’m certain. What if we could offer them something they wanted? They seem like they feel strongly bound by their treaties and duties and so forth. So let’s give them a new one. After what happened, we obviously need some allies against Mu.”
Latmikaik rubbed the scales on her face for a moment. “Distasteful as an alliance with mortals might be, still we tried that. They are intractable, their motives inscrutable. What does the Princess suggest we offer the he’e in return for such … assistance?” The queen said the last word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. Hadn’t Ake said something similar about having to even have the ambassador stay in Hiyoya?
“What does pride matter if you’re all dead?” Latmikaik’s eyebrow rose and Ake failed to quite stifle a gasp. She was probably swimming in dangerous waters. But she had to press on. “What would you be willing to part with to win this war?”
After a moment, Ake spoke. “We know they’ve wanted Red Coral Reef for some time. It was the original reason Punga came here.”
“And we refused,” the queen said. “Red Coral Reef teems with food, besides providing a strategic location from which to protect our borders.”
Namaka shook her head. “If you keep losing battles you won’t have any borders to protect.”
Ake’s eyes widened and the queen glowered at Namaka. She should have probably chosen more diplomatic words.
The queen sighed, then twirled water around her fingers a moment. “If you are so very convinced of that, then so be it, niece. Tell Ambassador Punga we will grant him Red Coral Reef in exchange for aid in defeating Mu. And not a league more than that of my ocean. Go, Princess. Bring us these allies you seem so certain are going to save us all.”
“Me?”
The queen waved her hand at the archway and a none-too-gentle current ushered Namaka from the throne room. She really had to learn to choose her words with more care, especially down here, talking to a spirit who was probably old as the sea itself. It didn’t help that everyone had thought Namaka was the one who was going to save them all. Well then, she would. Not through her wild power, but by bringing Hiyoya the allies it needed to win this war.
And then maybe she would have to go home, try to set things right with her parents and her uncle and everyone. Assuming Nyi Rara would even let her. The damn mermaid ought to let her, all things considered.
Namaka swam back to the hallway where she had left Punga, but saw no sign of him. “Ambassador?”
“He returned to his grotto,” a mermaid guard said.
“Show me the way. Please.”
The mermaid bowed and led her around several twists of the palace, finally gesturing toward a circular chamber. Sand from the seafloor dusted the ground and algae grew along the walls. Unlike most of the other chambers, no glowing orb of light illuminated the room, leaving it in such darkness she could barely see.
“Ambassador?”
Something shifted in the shadows. “Come in, Princess.”
Actually, she would have preferred he come out of his creepy little grotto, but she had probably offended enough people today. She swam in—a pace or so only—then scanned the room, still uncertain where the he’e was.
“What can I do for you?” The voice sounded from the back of the room, somewhere on the floor. The he’e must have better night vision than even a mermaid. Maybe they liked the dark. Weren’t octopuses nocturnal anyway? He wasn’t trying to be creepy, just comfortable. That was all.
“I bring an offer from Queen Latmikaik for a new treaty. One in which you agree to offer military aid against Mu.”
“To join the losing side in war offers one little benefit to outweigh the prodigious risk. To entwine one’s arms in a mer battle leaves one in treacherous waters. What could prompt one to such a decision, one must wonder.”
“Hiyoya will cede you Red Coral Reef.”
The he’e hesitated, or squirmed at least. If she could see his face—if he had a damn face—maybe she could make out what he was thinking. “One wonders what now prompts Queen Latmikaik to overcome recalcitrance that so bound her in years before.”
Namaka frowned, trying to untangle the he’e’s words. “We are very serious about building a strong relationship with your people.”
“A weighty commitment is asked, but with half a heart …”
Namaka sighed. “Come on. You know you want the reef. And you just said you hate seeing our people suffer. Do the right thing and help us.”
A strange rumble echoed through the room, like a miniature undersea quake. Was the creature laughing? “The right thing? Right and wrong are perceptions, perspectives, reflections, defined by the speaker. Shall our kind do the right thing? We always do right by the ends we need. And for you, this very night King Kanaloa shall receive word of your plight. If one ends a war, one expects ample gratitude toward Aupuni, above and beyond the terms of mere politics.”
Kanaloa … God of Magic, God of the Deep. How could a god be a king?
The god-king of the he’e is the same ancient, unfathomable deity you so venerate.
God-king? That sounded promising. If the he’e ended the war, maybe she could finally get back to fixing her own life. And a deity even great Kāne feared must be powerful indeed.
“Mahalo, Ambassador.”
Namaka swam from his chamber and back to the grotto they had granted her—or rather Nyi Rara, relishing the intricate designs on the walls and the flicker of light through the water. It was beautiful down here, and part of her truly wanted to stay in this life. But she did miss her family and Mo-O and Kamapua’a.
If she helped solve Hiyoya’s problem, would Nyi Rara let her go home?
