Fish Out of Water Read online

  Rich and sweet, but with a searingly hot aftertaste that rocks your palate.

  Lecanora touched Mom’s eyes again and Mom smiled as she telepathed. Everyone is here. She motioned to the creatures parading around us. As it should be, for a Gadulan wedding.

  Lecanora smiled too, but with a sad downturn at the edges. There are many others who are not. Species that are missing now. Since the warming began.

  The Princess sighed and made to move off. My hand itched to grab her arm. Wait.

  I wanted to wrap my arms around her. But too many would report to Kraken. Her uncle had never liked our friendship.

  Can we talk tonight?

  The Princess shook her head, stifling a knife edge of disappointment. No, at the wedding.

  “Thank you for your blessing, child,” Mom offered aloud as the Princess made to leave. “But we are already blessed. To see you, to stand near you.”

  With that, Mom opened her arms to embrace the Princess.

  But the Princess ducked them, and before anyone could stop her, she hurtled towards one of the mammoth walls of raging water, hurling herself at it.

  I felt my heart explode into action in my chest, but before I could even kick off to follow her, she had already emerged, with a small but bloody wound to her head and bearing a small child in her arms. As the assorted watchers drew in a collective gasp, I saw what had happened.

  A small hole had opened in one of the walls of water, like a frayed rip in a curtain. Anyone standing close could feel the diabolical pull of the hole and realized the child must have strayed too close and been caught in the rip as it opened. All were silent, shaking their heads.

  How could this have happened? The walls of the Eye are as immutable as time itself.

  They shook their heads, astonished that Lecanora had seen the danger before anyone else. And responded immediately, heedless of her own safety. The whole event could only have taken a fraction of a second. The child should have been dead before the Princess reached her.

  The Princess herself should be dead.

  How could she have survived the fatal suction of the tornado?

  How could she have swum back against it, bearing the child? And so fast?

  A hundred creatures, every color of the rainbow, spilled words of praise and comfort.

  But Lecanora swam awkwardly on the spot, giddy from the assault on her body.

  She looked like her habitual discomfort in her skin was magnified a thousand fold by all the attention. I knew that she heard, as I did, what they were all thinking.

  Just another thing that makes her different.

  Day Three: The Wedding

  I yawned as I took in The Eye through the dense fog of my nicotine withdrawal.

  Only a nation that doesn’t drink would hold a wedding in the morning.

  I couldn’t even begin to imagine what those diamonds must be worth. Lucky no land-dwellers knew about this place, or every woman in the U.S would be wanting one of those babies on her ring finger. God help the peace-loving Aegirans then.

  My danger radar was on overdrive. It had been thirteen years and maybe I was paranoid, but I swore it felt warmer than I remembered. Just like back home. I still couldn’t believe they went ahead and had the wedding here in the Eye. After what happened yesterday. After the injury to Lecanora. My eyes, like those of all the seas creatures assembled around me (well, those that had eyes), continuously flickered to the rip, like a jagged black mouth.

  If that sucker decided to tear wide open, we’d all be screwed.

  My body felt stiff and cranky, the hydroporting hangover I called it. And believe me, it takes skill to use Mom’s Jacuzzi to hydroport. You have to submerge completely with your song-fish and hold each other, singing the required notes at the right pitch and focusing your minds in just the right way. But if you can swing it, your very essence becomes fluid. You melt down to droplets, but you’re still singing. You’re inside the note, dizzy and spinning and moving.

  And then you’re there. Beginning in water, ending in water. Traveling through the very droplets of water in the air, to the place you’re singing about.

  In this case, home. Aegira.

  As you re-form, from droplets to flesh, you’re aware of being alive, real, but it takes a few moments to get back into your own head. It’s scary but it’s also pretty wild.

  And let’s face it, when you’ve got this far to travel, it’s the only way to go.

  Mermaids don’t always hydroport, of course. Around Aegira we just swim. Hydroporting is for long trips, like from Dirtwater to this hidden kingdom, nestled at the deepest place on Earth. You can also use hydroporting when you need to get somewhere really quickly. But that carries its own challenges. Like sometimes, just sometimes, if your concentration’s distracted, or you try to rush it, you can bring parts of other places with you.

  I thought about the aquarium. Like Blondie did.

  I could see Mom looking at me, and battled to keep my eyes open. It was harder underwater, even with the invisible opaque eyelids that slid down to protect my eyes.

  I tried to focus. Kraken was presiding. The High Priest of Ran’s Temple.

  He joined the hands of the love-birds, who gazed at the crowd. Not at each other. The vows were being taken on a floating dais, a thousand guests moving around it in a slow circle. The guests could be broken roughly into three groupings: envoys from the ocean nations; representatives of each of the refugee species; and the Aegiran Gadula.

  The Queen sat high on a floating blue-green throne, flanked by her handmaiden, a lovely young mermaid with a face sweeter than sugar. Queen Imd. Dusk. The youngest sister, last of her line. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Aegir and Ran sure perfected the recipe with her. She’s blonde as blonde comes, but without a trace of vanilla. Kindness and wisdom beam out of these lively eyes, and there’s a wicked intelligence in each inch of her smooth face.

  A thousand years old and not a wrinkle in sight. Eat your heart out Estee Lauder.

  Imd saw me and raised a hand in a salute. I returned it. She knew me, after all this time. I remembered that she was kind and funny. But that underneath, you could smell her sadness.

  I guess you can’t have it all.

  Butchered family. Destined to be barren. Only the arrival of Lecanora had offered her some solace. Princess Lecanora was the full, rags-to-riches deal. She was found adrift as a newborn by Kraken, now High Priest of Aegira (and an irritating, uptight asshole at the last Gadulan wedding I’d been to, fourteen years ago). Lecanora’s parents were never found and everyone assumed she’d been abandoned. Queen Imd had always longed for a child. So she took Lecanora in and bingo! The abandoned waif became a Princess and the Queen’s daughter.

  Go Kraken. Way to ingratiate yourself with the Queen.

  Although, if you ask me, spooky Kraken took way too much interest in the Princess.

  I trained my eyes back on the young couple. Kraken was in full flight, intoning the importance of children to Aegira. Not exactly Gone With The Wind, but they were lapping it up.

  Kraken’s like Aegira’s George Clooney. Even the ice-cool Aegiran babes get hot under the collar around him. But he’s married to one of the Queen’s most trusted confidantes, Shighsa. A sweet woman, a loyal wife. I always figured Kraken couldn’t be so bad, to have married her. I strained my memory to recall more of what I knew about the priest. That’s right. They have a child. A son, I think, but apparently he’s some waster. A real disappointment.

  The sweethearts planted a chaste kiss on each other’s eyelids, and began the ritual swim, touching the eyelids and cheeks of all as they passed, and accepting various other blessings. A lick on the face from a Gynomarl envoy, her silver tongue flashing like ice. A salute from a Leigon with the facial disfigurement that marked him as a separatist. And now a refugee. I saw Shar offer them the blessing, his body stiff beside the other tribal leaders, and I remembered that he is reputed to resent the haven Aegira offers to the “lesser species”.


  As the couple passed, I thought again about how land-dwellers think mermaids need tails to get around. If they could see this, they’d get it. The newlyweds strolled, almost regally, through the water, swimming standing upright. Guests greeted them, staying perfectly still in one place (which is so much harder than it looks under all that water). Children darted easily at the edges of the ceremony. An older woman had nodded off during the nuptials and as she napped, one arm moved through the water in her sleep, keeping her in place.

  When I first came here, as a kid, I was a strong swimmer, Mom had seen to that. And after all, I was the product of ten thousand years of marine evolution, just like the rest. But I hadn’t grown up in Aegira, and I had some clumsy Sicilian blood in my veins, so it took time to adjust to the weight and currents at the bottom of the sea, to the suck and drag of all that water. I would flip over unexpectedly, and find myself swimming upside down. I would float off in the wrong direction. I had to move continually to maintain a desired position.

  But not Aegirans. Ten thousand years is a long time to learn how to swim.

  I saw Mom swim up to a podium resting high above the crowd like a silken nightingale’s perch, and realized she must have been asked to perform The Song of Two.

  In seconds, her raspy sweetness wrapped the Eye up in its silky strands. She mixed the ancient sounds up with a bluesy ache and sounded like a soprano Aretha Franklin. Even Kraken, the old egotist, surrendered himself, eyes closed, straining right into the music in Lantara. As she finished, the rest joined in. There was this climbing, aching, building crescendo, and one hundred perfect voices melted into a long, sonorous, vibrating note of joy and hope. It reached down into my toes, and began the slow climb back to my heart before it made it to my lips.

  Y’know, I always thought those voices would do an amazing Guns’n’Roses medley, but I had to admit they sound pretty freakin’ superb singing anything at all.

  I looked up at Mom, high on her swing, and I could see she was wiped out. The hydro-porting and the solo had taken their toll. I wanted to go to her, but I saw the High Triad making their way up. Swimming with the slow dignity of the truly important.

  I tried to have a peek into her mind, just to check if she was okay, but she blocked me.

  Politely, as is her way. Don’t worry, Rania. I can handle these old guys.

  She sounded like she’d been expecting them, and the cop in me wanted very badly to know why. What do they want? Singing lessons?

  Mom wouldn’t be drawn. We’ll talk later.

  And I was shut out. Yeah, so I guess we’ll talk later, Ma.

  The congregation scattered through the calm pool of water, settling into little clusters. As I floated, I caught snatches of mind-talk, and it was all of the rip in The Eye.

  Two ancient turtles, hulking and superior, treaded water and hypothesized. What can it mean? Is it the beginning of the end? The prophecy?

  It must be The Evil One, returned.

  A haughty young Aegiran I recognized as one of the Queen’s scientists shook his head at his companion as he passed the turtles and caught the tail end of their conversation. Superstition. They always blame Manos. It’s sea warming, of course. The land-dwellers.

  A much loved Gynomarl midwife floated amidst a group of young Aegiran women. Keep your children close, away from the rip.

  The serving Gag-ai-lan were circulating, swimming through the groups with platters laden with all kinds of Aegiran delicacies. There was Abermonth, of course, but also wild ocean mushrooms, sea-corn and this crazy Aegiran cheese made from the milk of sea turtles.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder, and swivelled quickly. I was looking at three young women. My age-ish, I guesssed. “Rania,” they trilled as one.

  Then it struck me. Choirgirls. Specifically, the Throaty Three.

  Aegira’s equivalent of The Pink Ladies.

  They’d moved in a pack since we were teenagers, and looked like not much had changed now that they were all grown up. I’d schooled with them during the times we came home to Aegira, before That Time. No that I’d minded going to school on my summer vacation. There were no hall monitors, for a start. The teachers sought out your skills, showing you things and telling you stories in a way that seemed far too interesting to be real. And that’s even leaving aside the fact that everyone at school was hot. And half of them were naked, at least sometimes.

  “Hello Zali, Nidan, Tricoste.” I smiled, pleased that too much Southern Comfort hadn’t completely destroyed my memory. “What did you think of the wedding? Kind of low on the romance, I thought.” I was remembering the chaste kisses and the big focus on community. Although, to be fair, I guess sometimes Dirtwater weddings aren’t exactly A Love Story either. I recalled Danny Docko had looked like a less than willing participant as he’d trudged down the aisle next to his eight-months-pregnant bride last year. Maybe the Aegirans are onto something.

  Zali giggled into my mind. Oh Rania, you know it’s different here. Passions are for your calling, not your mate. She emphasized the last word like she was saying something banal, and laughed again as though the idea of getting hot under the collar over a sexual partner was absurd. I wondered why she had switched to speaking into my mind.

  Tricoste weighed in. Yes, Rania. It’s the calling that matters. You know, science, architecture, teaching… whatever is chosen for you. Weddings are about children.

  The three of them sighed in unison as Tricoste spoke the last word, like girls on the land sigh picking out wedding dresses and creamy, embossed invitations. It reminded me. Mom once told me the story about the confusion that reigned when a watch-keeper brought home the tale of Romeo and Juliet, coupla centuries ago. Lotta head-shaking among the fishes that day. And now Aegiran kids get told that as well as being violent and unpredictable, land-dwellers make crazy love choices and do really weird things as a result.

  Well not me. I must have pure saltwater running through my veins ’cause I’ve never been crazy in love. Unless you count my Glock, but really, that’s more lust.

  And we both know some day it’ll get traded in for a younger model.

  I squashed the thought of Doug that rose, unbidden. No. That was done a year ago.

  But the thought that replaced it was worse. It came from a traitorous corner of my mind that couldn’t help but keep scanning the crowd, looking for him. The guy from the shower.

  ‘Cause I knew one thing for sure. He was down here somewhere.

  I gave myself a little mental shake and turned back to the girls. Normally, I would have noticed it sooner. Body language is my specialty. But I’d been distracted.

  I looked at them now, swimming skittishly in place, smiling too wide, standing too close to each other. And, most telling of all, closing off great big slabs of their brain as they stood making small talk with me.

  Okay. Whassup?

  Nothing, they agreed quickly, again in unison.

  Lying. Man, mermaids are bad at lying.

  Okay, sure, I agreed quickly. Pause. So why y’all looking so green around the gills?

  They laughed, and now I could separate their almost identical voices, each a heartbeat higher. The laughter was beautiful, like bells in some gothic church, and I almost lost my train of thought. Then I remembered that’s what mermaids do instead of lying. They distract you.

  But they wanted something.

  So I waited.

  Mermaid lives are ruled by etiquette, so they lasted five seconds in excruciating silence before they broke. Zali, the leader by a whisker, kicked off.

  Long time since the Seer, Rania, she telepathed gently. What did she tell you, that made you go away for so long?

  I said nothing, shrugged. Waited.

  Are you really a warrior? Her pretty little face puckered in disbelief.

  Warrior was stretching the truth even more than I can handle.

  No. I’m… I searched for the right analogy. I’m a seeker.

  It was the best I could come up with. No cops down there. No ne
ed. Instead they have seekers. Sort of like a cross between emergency services and a peace-keeping force.

  I’m someone who… finds out what’s going on when stuff goes wrong. Tries to make sure everything gets put back right.

  Oh, they breathed, as one again. Then they darted around so they formed a quick circle, clearly consulting about something. When they turned back to me, they’d clearly decided to share something. Are you here because of the girl?

  Did they mean my blonde? But how could they know?

  Ah, no, I said, shaking my head, my limbs stiffening and my ears starting to pop as my brain whizzed through possibilities. What girl?

  Zali again. It’s Imogen, she whispered into my brain. She’s missing. Almost a week.

  This really wasn’t what I’d expected. Imogen the soloist? I definitely remembered Imogen. Voice like an angel, even among a cast of angels. And an unusual delicate pearl locket, formed into the shape of a turtle, always at her neck. Missing how?

  Zali shrugged prettily, and the others mirrored her like a gorgeous blonde Mexican wave.

  Then I recognized the furtive look in their eyes that had puzzled me. Fear.

  But people don’t go missing in Aegira. Why was I telling them this? They knew it better than me. Has anyone tried to touch her?

  On The Land, it would have been a creepy question, but they knew what I meant and they all nodded furiously. We’ve all reached out for her. Separately, and together. Nothing.

  I tried again, more to reinforce to myself. But no-one’s ever gone missing completely.

  The three girls cast their eyes down. Not true, Zali said finally. Saskia. Don’t you remember? And wasn’t she…?

  Ah yes, she was. A maternal aunt of my mother’s. Disappeared swimming with the dolphins. They assumed after days that she had been found by the land-dwellers. And killed.

  I was about to fire off questions, when a brusque incursion into our brains interrupted.

  Enough of this nonsense, girls. Leave our guest to enjoy the festivities. Go.

  Man, I really hate bossy men.