There are ships everywhere—small, ancient-style sailboats, and medium and large modern vessels that range from yachts to Earth-style tankers, except, supposedly they have hover capability. Indeed, as we come down in one of the many parking air-lots nearby, we see an arriving freight tanker—probably the height of a ten-story building—barely skimming the surface of the waves, churning the water underneath it as it hover-floats toward its berth along the commercial portion of the wharf. As it comes to a stop, the hover-tanker stops levitating and immediately “sinks” half-way, descending to properly float in the water as it ejects great anchors.
“That is one huge mama ship,” Laronda says with awe, as we stare out of the car windows.
“So which part is Fish Town? Are we in Fish Town now?” I ask, as we open the doors to exit our vehicles.
Immediately a strong smell of fish and seaweed hits us, together with a pleasant cool breeze.
“I’m guessing, yes. . . . Pew!” Gracie says with a happy smile, as we all breathe in the fresh ocean air.
“Fish Town is everything here along the water, and also the area that continues directly inland—the whole district,” Anu says with a pleased expression of an expert. “Follow me . . . I’ll show you the best part of the Main Wharf Promenade, best places to eat maqooi fish eggs, best guu rolls, best everything—”
I nod in amusement and follow Anu as he heads for the crowded public area that runs along the shoreline.
We walk along the Main Wharf Promenade—an endless long street lined with buildings on one side and access to water on the other. There are many pedestrians and people zipping by on hoverboards in the middle of the street. Occasional small hover cars slowly cruise along street level to watch the sights and the gaudy marine-themed displays in the windows of the shops. Fish designs are everywhere, on shop signs and buildings. There are also fish barrels and buckets on display, nearly every few feet, seething with live fish or crustaceans, as vendors offer their latest catch.
Very soon, the usual media reporters show up and surround me for one-question interviews, which in turn makes the passersby pay attention and notice me, as intended. . . .
“It’s the Imperial Bride!” People nearby start calling out to me as I laugh and wave to them. “Happy Bride Show Day!”
“Thank you!” I wave back, walking carefully on the slippery ground to avoid spilled ocean water puddles from the buckets nearly underfoot everywhere.
“Okay, good . . . let’s go, let’s go,” Anu says, switching from one foot to the other impatiently, and looking around at the various storefronts with eagerness.
Tuar stands next to me and Manala, carefully keeping a perimeter of safety around us, while the other guards extend it. Occasionally Tuar checks his wrist comm where I’m guessing Aeson probably texted him another inquiry regarding my status—which now I know im amrevu does from time to time, having admitted it to me.
Always concerned about my safety. . . .
“Let’s go!” Anu repeats, as we are done talking with another network reporter and several leathery-skinned locals.
“Go where?” Manala asks, looking around her a little warily. “It smells bad here.”
“Dzugin hodeh. . . . Smells like fish,” Hasmik adds with a small amused shrug. “It’s okay.”
“It’s fourth hour,” Anu says in a loud voice that means business. “Dea meal time, come on. Right here around the corner of that building, great place to eat.”
Manala’s usual nervous expression becomes even more so. “Eat . . . here?”
“Hmm, I am kind of starved,” Gracie says, looking curiously at the stores.
“You know, I could go for some Atlantean seafood!” Laronda says loudly, raising one brow and echoing Anu’s overbearing tone. “Let’s see how good it really is.”
I hesitate for a moment, seeing Manala’s horrified look.
“Oh yeah—they have other things too. They have everything here, you don’t have to eat fish,” Anu says quickly, realizing the problem. “They have normal food, and they have fish. Shesep’s Bar and Fire Shawab is right there! Let’s go!”
Tuar gives me a subtle look. “Only as long as you feel secure, Imperial Lady Gwen—and the Imperial Princess is equally comfortable with the choice of venue.”
Anu groans. “Oh, come on, it’s perfectly safe—”
“Stop,” Tuar interrupts in a hard voice, turning to Anu with warning. “This is their choice, not yours—remember your place, Vei.”
Anu glares back at Tuar but holds his tongue.
I turn to Manala. “What do you think, Manala?” I say gently. “We could try it, but only if you don’t mind. Please tell me honestly if this makes you uncomfortable, and we’ll eat in a different area. That would be absolutely fine.”
“Oh . . .” Manala clasps her hands together and considers, anxiously. Her expressive face goes through a cascade of conflicting emotions. So much so that you can see each stage of her indecision working itself out in her countenance.
“All right, that’s it,” I say, making the hard decision for her. “We’re leaving. We’ll eat outside of Fish Town, somewhere else—at our next location. Sorry, Anu, some other time.”
“Oh! No, wait!” Manala bites her lip and wrings her hands again anxiously. “I don’t want you to miss out on enjoying yourselves! I am so sorry! I shouldn’t be getting in the way of your wishes on Bride Show Day!”
With a shy glance at Anu, Manala says, “As long as I don’t have to eat the poor sea creatures and fish, it’s all right, I suppose.”
Anu’s glum expression comes alive again and he slaps his hand against his thigh. “Yeah, okay! Imperial Princess, good choice! Let’s go then, I’ll show you the best food you’ve ever had!”
“You better be right, troll boy,” Laronda mutters, as we start walking.
Chapter 43
Shesep’s Bar, located in a weather-beaten two-story building, has a big glowing sign above the entrance. Noise and music and a strong smell of smoky grilled food engulfs us as we enter. The interior is warm gold and violet with ambient mood lighting, on the dark side, and crowded with colorful painted tables, patrons, and rushing servers.
Not unlike Earth establishments, there’s a beverage bar section near the rear, a dining section with an open kitchen and several grills hissing cheerfully as the cooks prepare food to order, and even what looks like a small stage for entertainment. The walls have smart screens with TV feeds like a sports bar, and the rest is taken up with marine themed decorations consisting of nets, looping knotted ropes, wooden carvings of fish, crustaceans and ocean plants. Garlands of intricately braided, dried seaweed hang next to bunches of colorful root vegetables and herbs from the ceiling.
Several light orbs float in the air and move about gently, illuminating the tables, people’s faces, and the food on the plates in a seemingly random manner, so that the illumination constantly changes. This creates unusual shadows on the walls, the illusion of rippling movement of water, much like swells of ocean waves.
“Oh, wow, this place is cool!” Gracie says.
“Wait here, I’ll clear us a table!” Anu says, and heads with determination to the bar, waiving with familiarity to the serving staff.
Manala keeps close to Hasmik, looking around with trepidation. Meanwhile Laronda peers at the nearest smart screen where a familiar Atlantean daytime drama plays out an emotional scene with an actress portraying me and an actor doing Aeson. “Oh, jeez,” Laronda says, as our theatrical doubles argue over something ridiculous related to the upcoming Wedding.
A few minutes later, an incredibly apologetic and excited proprietor rushes towards us, exclaiming, “My Imperial Lady Gwen Lark! Here, today! On your Bride Show Day of all days! Oh, joy, oh glory to all wind gods and ocean gods! You grace our humble establishment! What an honor and privilege to serve you today, oh, what a magnificent glorious day it is for Shesep! And oh, the Imperial Princess is here! Oh, glorious, oh, radiant—”
This goes on
and on, as the stocky middle-aged man with balding gilded hair—who is Shesep, apparently—guides us between tables and curious staring customers to the largest unoccupied table in the room, and seats us. He offers Manala and me additional sitting pillows over the hard chairs, which we refuse kindly.
“Ah, what a feast will appear before you! Anything you like is yours!” Shesep raises his face to the ceiling, widens his eyes and shakes his head, clutching his beefy hands at his chest.
Hasmik looks down at the table surface so as not to giggle.
“And now, allow me tell you about the delicious dea specials we have today, glorious sukrat freshly caught from the ocean foam this morning and grilled in a light drizzle of oil, fragrant spices, and their own juices. And of course, if you prefer something more traditional, we are happy to oblige—”
Manala’s expression remains slightly troubled, but she has relaxed considerably.
“Sounds wonderful.” I smile at Shesep. “But first—do you have a menu of the traditional food, for some of us who will not be having seafood?”
“Of course, here it is!” Shesep points to his temple, to indicate it’s stored up there. “Ask me for your favorite dish—I can make anything!”
I turn to Manala, sitting to my right. “What would you like?”
“Oh!” Manala starts slightly, not expecting to be called at this point, and blinks, thinking for a few seconds. She then looks up at Shesep with uncertainty. “Can you make a layered gulubo in cream sauce, with fried root vegetables and pickled ranub?”
“Easy as a breath!” Shesep bows to Manala with a blissful smile. “Would you like a savory sprinkle of herbs on the baked top layer, or a sweet candied drizzle of fruit?”
“A little of both!” Manala says with wide-eyed happiness.
“I see that My Imperial Princess knows the best way to eat gulubo.” Shesep winks mischievously, his face warming up even more.
And then he turns to me with courtesy. “And now—what would My Imperial Lady like?”
My mind stalls a bit as I attempt to recall the many delicious Atlantean dishes I’ve tasted. “You know, let me think about it a little more. Why don’t you take the rest of our orders and come back to me later. In fact—” I glance down the table at Anu who is sitting a little ways off with the guards, his fingers drumming on the table with impatience—“Anu, you know what’s good here, so what do you recommend?”
Anu’s face is a study in happiness. He immediately starts listing dishes with the authority of a chef, and Shesep nods with approval at each. “. . . so if you want a true taste of our best fish, a sampler platter of guu rolls; makuudra filet if you like mild and savory with a hint of sweetness; shelled kivakat is very light, and it’s a local delicacy, or—if you’re not afraid of strong flavor, the real thing, best fish in the world—the spicy grilled sukrat is the way to go,” Anu concludes. “I’ll be having all of those! And the maqooi fish eggs in ozu butter!”
“And now, are we ready to order?” Shesep asks us with a smile.
“Everything sounds so yummy,” Gracie says. “I don’t like fish all that much, but I’m willing to try the makuudra filet, if it really is mild and not too spicy. . . .”
“It is like clouds!” Shesep kisses his fingertips and turns his gaze to the ceiling.
“I’ll take the spicy grilled sukrat,” Laronda says, raising one brow in challenge and glancing at Anu.
Anu stares back at her with an intense, superior look.
“Guu rolls, a little sampler platter, please,” Hasmik says after a tiny thoughtful pause, smiling at us.
“A delicious choice!” Shesep nods to her.
When it’s his turn, Anu opens his mouth and loudly rattles off his own huge order.
Tuar and the guards decline to order and only watch impassively. Since they’re on duty, they will not be eating with us—even though I invite them to have something, repeatedly.
At last, it’s my turn.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I would like a stir fry with lidairi and ero grains,” I say, recalling Aeson’s favorite simple dish.
“But of course, My Imperial Lady, with delight!” Shesep bows to me with a smile.
He then bows again, this time to the table in general, saying he will return with our drinks and flatbread while our main selections are being prepared.
After Shesep is gone, Manala glances at me curiously and touches my arm. “Gwen . . . you are not having fish?”
I shake my head, smiling lightly at her.
“Oh, I hope it’s not because of me,” Manala continues, her eyes widening with emotion. “I am so sorry if I made you think that you shouldn’t, because—”
“No, Manala, it’s not you—not at all—though I’m happy to keep you company in this,” I say with amusement, leaning closer to her ear.
I consider for a moment how to explain. . . . “Truth is,” I say, “I’ve gotten used to not eating meat. It’s been over a year now and, with all the seriously amazing vegetable protein dishes, I don’t even miss it. Not at all. And the ethical reasons for not eating animals seem to be pretty strong, so—”
I pause, again wondering how to express this yet another nuance of difference in me—a gradual change of perspective that crept up on me over these many months of acclimatization to a new existence and an alien society, along with everything else.
“It really is a new world, and the new me no longer has the same habits,” I finish. “On the other hand, I’ve no idea if tomorrow the old me might resurface and crave some of the old stuff, like Italian salami or bologna. I always tell myself, ‘if I want to eat meat or fish, I can, anytime—just not today.’ Makes it easier to stick to it, if you never say ‘never,’ just ‘later’ or ‘tomorrow’. . . . So, for now, at least, I’ll stick to your traditional meatless dishes.”
Manala’s great eyes light up with wonder. “Thank you, Gwen . . .” she whispers suddenly. “The sea creatures . . . all the living creatures thank you so much for not eating them.”
“They do? Is that right?” I chuckle. “What about the vegetables?”
She nods silently, and her expression continues shining. “The vegetables are alive, but they are not creatures,” she says. “They live in a different phase of being, out of sync with us—like the pegasei. When we reach across phases of being to take energy, we cause the least harm. It is only when we rob others similar to ourselves of energy that we do wrong.”
I’m not sure what to make of her eccentric words, so I merely smile at her.
Servers arrive at our table with baskets of freshly baked, herb-encrusted, buttery flatbread. Others carry pitchers of fruit water, iced juice, and dark molasses-colored scarab beer for Anu. Then, fifteen minutes later, our food arrives. Shesep himself carries sizzling platters of beautifully arranged, baked, sautéed, grilled filet and whole fish in some cases, and various vegetable dishes. The delicious aroma surrounds us.
“This is guu rolls? Looks like sushi!” Hasmik stares at her oversized platter of what appears to be delicate cuts of fish wrapped in grains and crunchy-dried seaweed.
“Ooh! Let me try!” Laronda exclaims. “This is actually cooked, not raw like sushi,” she adds, after Hasmik gives her a piece.
And, just like that, our individual orders turn into a family-style feast, as everyone starts trying everyone else’s fish specialties.
Manala and I are the only ones to refrain from the seafood melee, and dig into our respective veggie dishes. The plates set before us are piled with colorful layers of sauce-drenched delights.
“Is yours good?”
“Oh, yeah!”
“Holy crap, this is good fish!”
Gracie and Hasmik giggle as Anu fills his mouth with huge pieces of food, gulping with abandon. After each bite of fish, he follows up by tearing apart flatbread with his teeth, dipping whatever’s in his hand in ozu butter sauce, then putting the whole thing in his mouth again. Seriously, the boy is stuffing his cheeks like a crazed hamster. He t
hen picks up a tall mug of frothy scarab beer, and drains half of it in one uninterrupted series of gulps. “Ah-h-h!”
“So, what’s that brown stuff?” Laronda asks Anu across the table.
“Huh? You talking to me?” Anu says on a belch.
“Oh, gross!” Laronda wrinkles her forehead in disgust. “Yeah, though now I wish I didn’t.”
“This is scarab beer, best drink ever!” Anu proclaims, brandishing his mug in her direction. “But not for you—too strong. You won’t handle it.”
“Are you serious?” Laronda narrows her eyes at him. “Give it here!”
“No.”
“No?” Now Laronda’s expression is like a bomb ready to explode.
“You can’t handle it, I’m telling you,” Anu says smugly, patting the dewy surface of the ice-cold pitcher. He continues staring at her.
“Like hell I can’t! Give it here!”
Anu’s smug expression becomes a full-blown smirk. “No way.”
Laronda gets up from her seat and walks down the table, past others in our group, and right up to Anu. She snatches up the pitcher of scarab beer before he can react, and brings it over to her seat.
“Bashtooh! Hey! You give it back, Earth girl! That’s mine!” Anu’s jaw drops.
Laronda ignores him and takes an empty glass; pours herself about two fingers’ breadth. She raises it to her lips and tastes it. “Ugh, nasty. Like bad Earth beer, but with vinegar. And is that rotten eggs?” She makes a face.
“I told you!” Anu says loudly. “Now bring it back.”
“Come and get it.”
Oh, boy. . . .
Sitting between Laronda and me, Gracie stops chewing and stares with fascination. On the other side of Manala, Hasmik makes a little stifled sound, and leans forward to exchange looks with me, across Manala.
There is silence as everyone at our table just stops eating, drinking or breathing. Could be horror, could be amusement.
Survive Page 48
