Verse VII

  The noontide hour was arrived, and the refreshing currents of the day washed through the flow-holes of the royal council chamber, pushing away the murk of night and morning. Likewise did the emboldened light of the firmament shine through the grand pattern set into the walls of the room. Like other sections of the palace, the council chamber was constructed of large, interlocking plates of shell-work, but only it was possessed of a vision such as what her gaze took in.

  Yesca, the Mitera of Bryndoon and spiritual counsel to the Queen, considered the sight before her now. A diamond-shaped space in the wall had been carefully measured, cut, removed, and then reframed with a lattice of carved coral. Fixed within this frame were carved stones and shells of all colors. Two tail-lengths tall and half that in width, the pattern was meant to serve as a map of the seas, and what it lacked in accuracy it made up for in geometric form and symbolism.

  Her eyes touched upon the circles that represented the nine seas. At the top of the diamond lay an icy blue pane of sand-glass, made by some process known only to the mer galda of Valden. That was the Mere Arkhala, where the rune-keepers lived. At the bottom was a circle of translucent red stone: the Mere Hetropa, where only the luckless and the pearl-seekers dwelled. Yesca was a leondra of moderate climes, preferring neither the heat nor the cold, and thus those two extremities of the greater ocean interested her little.

  Tracking back and forth, her eyes focused on the remaining circles in turn. Dark green for the Mere Sangolia in the left corner, and violet for the Mere Le?si on the right, opposite of each other. One a wilderness, and the other a waste. The light brown panel in the center represented the Mere Almezzeb, which was both.

  Four more panes formed a tight inner circle, and that was where her business lay. On the right-hand side, light green for the Mere Tessra? and black obsidian for its close neighbor, the Mere Kazahn. On the left-hand side, the delicate pink of Bryndoon's own Mere Le?na fitted in right above the mother-of-pearl representing the Mere Kamazon. The Mitera smiled at these last two, the jewels of her world. She had not been home among her fellow leondra in the Mere Kamazon in years, and a piece of her heart still ached.

  But such was the necessities of duty. The young daughters of her folk were drilled from an early age in the canticles of duty, the songs of mothers and aunts long past who had done what was right and necessary, no matter the cost. Mitera Yesca hoped to have her own song added to the chronicles, in some future hour.

  In the present hour, the diamond frame in the wall was a reminder of the past, a symbol of what was once, more than what was to be. Where once the Crown had commanded nine seas directly, now it had seven. The Mere Le?si and Mere Hetropa, they were better off without. And that was for the good, in her thinking. Seven was a holy number; it was Cythera's number. There were seven forces at work within Her waters, directing all that lay beneath the firmament. The mers counted seven hours of the day, and seven days to the week. Seven weeks to the month, and seven months to the year. It was neat, tidy, and practical. Such symmetry pleased Cythera, and as Her servant, Yesca could only approve as well.

  She let the currents ruffle the mottled pattern of her fur, with the first hints of grey at its edges. The long braid of her rank, decorated with ribbons and badges, swayed behind her. The scars crossing her broad nose told stories that she would rather not recall. Meditating as she gazed upon the picture frame, she could set the worries of the seas aside for a verse.

  The frilled fins that ran down both sides of her tail twitched with annoyance. It was a misplaced feeling, she knew, and she continued her meditations upon the light. The meeting was set for the first hour of the afternoon, and the light from the frame told her that the time was not yet upon her.

  A few more verses of calm was all she needed to wait before shells rattled at the doorway. The Duchess Aysmin slipped into the chamber with little fanfare, swimming to the mitera and embracing her in welcome. Yesca responded warmly in kind, as befitted a mer seeing her fatebound sister for the first time in a week. Every day, matters of business seemed to grow in number and difficulty, keeping even those closest to her away.

  They were of an age, the mitera and the Queen's life-sister. Their births had coincided fortuitously, and thus they had been an inseperable pair for much of their youth, as had their younger sisters.

  The Duchess looked Yesca over with her good eye. "You're not eating," the mer accused.

  "The Goddess expects some privations of her servants."

  "That does not mean that you should starve yourself," Aysmin scolded.

  Some days, it seemed that the only smiles to be found on her face were reserved for her oldest friend. "And I am not," she reassured. "I merely refrain from eating as much as some." The remark was timed perfectly with the entrance of the third member of the council.

  Ministra Marhyd had some difficulty getting through the portal to the chamber, but the fat mer took it with a humor that annoyed the mitera. Granted, everything about the violet-haired mother of the House of Linnea annoyed her. Life was never more than one grand joke to the ministra.

  "What, was that comment aimed for little old me?" Marhyd asked innocently as she settled herself into a recess set along the wall of the chamber. It was the only one to fit her proportions, and she kept it well padded with silt-grass. "As noted by the theosophist Jemina min Passima, a life may be finite but the potential for experience is not. Thus are we encouraged to experience all that we may, when we may. To do otherwise would be a waste of the life She gave us."

  "And if one does run out of experiences?" Yesca inquired with a sigh. This was an old debate, playing out for the sake of form. Were she denied the chance to make a theosophical point, the ministra would prove insufferable for the rest of the afternoon. It was best to let the mer have her treat now.

  "Well, as min Passima further noted, Your Holiness, death may be seen as the ultimate in experiences, it being a thing that happens but once in a mer's existence." Marhyd chuckled at this, as if she found it all rather humorous instead of morbid. "Though in fairness I cannot say that I am ready for that particular experience just yet." She slapped her belly for emphasis.

  Aysmin sighed and shook her head. "Shall we get to business now?"

  Yesca noted once again how quickly the fat mer's jovial attirude melted away once more important matters were at hand. It was hard to tell what was real and what was artifice with that mer. She settled into her own space in the wall, taking a moment to arrange her front braids properly so that they did not get in her face.

  Not far distant, Aysmin did the same. Their respective resting niches formed a triangle just large enough that they could see and hear each other clearly without being too close. There were other seats in the chamber -- plenty, in fact -- but those had been left unattended and unused for years. Pared down to its bare necessities, the Royal Council was at its purest. Military, Ministry, Clergy. The minor affairs were dealt with elsewhere. Any meeting held here need concern weightier matters, and so Yesca began with a single, heavy word: "Abominations."

  "Sightings daily," Aysmin reported. "And ever more of them. So far, the Guard has been able to drive them away from the harbor cliffs without problems. No new varieties have been reported, though we are still waiting for the outlying waters to check in."

  "Research into the details and secrets of their being continues, but we require more specimens," said Marhyd. "Do please inform the commanders, Your Grace."

  The Duchess nodded. "Understood, but if it becomes a matter of capture versus safety..."

  "I defer to your judgment on the matter, Your Grace."

  A shiver ran down Yesca's back, setting the fur on edge. "And what have you discovered?" she asked. "You've had plenty of time."

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  The way the ministra's mouth dragged to the side could not be called a smirk, but it was not a friendly smile, either. Marhyd had argued for investigations and research long before such plans had been confirmed, long before reports of abominations were taken seriously, even. As a member of the ruling house of the Mere Tessra?, first and hardest hit by the monstrosities, Marhyd din Linnea had understood long before the rest of them what dangers the abominations posed, and she was not shy in waving her flukes in their faces about it.

  "We have discovered," said the ministra, "that they are very difficult to study. But we've known that for some time now, haven't we? Kill them with difficulty, carve them up, and they rot away to nothingness before you've hardly begun. Which supports my hypothesis that they are deficient in the nurturing force, by the way."

  The Mitera gritted her teeth to avoid making a face. Of the seven forces that ruled life under the seas, it was the seventh, the nurturing force, that was most sacred to She who was Mother to All. The other six forces had their own roles, but the sacred force was vital for life itself. To find living, animate things lacking in its blessing was a thought she found disturbing to entertain.

  "Over the past year, my staff and I have refined our techniques and tested each hypothesis in turn. It would have been nice if certain parties had taken our requests more seriously and allowed research to commence when these things first began to appear."

  Aysmin came to her defense, as she always did when this particular complaint was thrown to the eddies: "We had no evidence that it was not the work of orcs or larger of their ilk. You know that as well as I. Even after the five villages..." And the Duchess left it there. Five villages, all in the Ministra's home-waters of the Mere Le?si, gone in a single night with no warning, no clues, no survivors. Sixteen years past and many fights with the orcs later, and still it was a sore point for those who were supposed to guard the depths.

  "It is what it is," said the fat mer. "And time enough have we had since then. Enough so that I believe we have isolated the primary force for these beings."

  "Which is?" Sometimes she wished the Ministra would just get to the point, even as she hoped the fat mer would just close her mouth and take vows of silence.

  "I doubt that it will please Your Holiness." Marhyd let out another of her staccato chuckles.

  "Well, if it's not the sacred force, then what in the indigo hell is it?" demanded Aysmin. "Begging your pardon," she added as an aside to Yesca.

  Leave it to the sister of her soul to say the things she could not. A smile and a nod were the measure of her agreement, and then she returned a heavy stare to the ministra. The way Marhyd was dragging her tail on the matter, it could not be good news at all. Mitera Yesca feared she already knew the answer, in truth.

  "If it is not the sacred," Marhyd continued with a quirk of a grin on her lips, "then it must certainly be the profane." The sound of her words echoed off the walls of the chamber for a moment. The waters closed in, as if waiting for more words to come. None followed.

  The leondra was as still as the room. Even though she had feared, and been correct in that fear, that did not mean she was any less angered by the assertion from the Ministra's lips. Years of patient training, of being taught control at an early age and not showing how deep her feelings flowed, those had given her the advantage over others in the Temple hierarchy, and later in the courtly circles as well. Now, it kept her from breaking things.

  Sorcery. That was what Marhyd meant. To call the profane a force was an affront to She who made all things, a truest blasphemy. That wicked power could not exist on its own, could not be evoked through the normal use of runes and song. Those who dared use it had to first gather enough to be useful, and there was but one method for that: death. It was the darkness of the depths, the dregs of Creation gathered together by Luher, she who was forever envious of the All-Mother's gift. The beasts of the sea were merely fuel for her wicked ways, and only merkind was pure enough to possess no trace of this taint.

  Few practiced the darkest arts. Fewer still survived long enough to become accomplished at them. Not even Marhyd, amoral as she might pretend, did more than dabble in the theory of the profane. Yesca was troubled that any such research existed, even under the watchful gaze of the temple. That the research was now justified left her with a rotten taste in the mouth.

  Ah, Blessed Mother, how she wished she had the liberty to strike the messenger in this moment.

  Aysmin and the Ministra kept their words to themselves as she pursued her private musings. As the head of this council, representing the divine interests, it was she whose decision was final. Such responsibility demanded much thought. When she came to break the silence once more, it was with low-toned words that were deceptive in their softness.

  "Are these abominations the work of a mer's hands, or something else?"

  "That is difficult to say," Marhyd began again. "The accounts of experiments left behind by Tamar min Tamarcy suggest that such animation is possible, but the record is incomplete..."

  Better to say that is was in pieces, tiny shards of shell snapped and broken upon the silt.

  "So we cannot say for certain if min Tamarcy succeeded in her endeavors before she was caught and executed. However, if records of the arrest are accurate, then the guards met with no resistance. One would imagine that a sorceress would make a priority of servitors with which to defend herself."

  "Who knows what thoughts lie in the depths of such madness," noted Yesca.

  "Yes, yes, Your Holiness. Still, the record shows nothing larger than a shuffle lobster in min Tamarcy's lair. Thus we must assume that she was not able to put theory into practice, and if she could not, then who could in this age? She was in point of fact the most accomplished sorceress since the Witch of the Black Flow."

  Was that a twinkle she saw in the Ministra's eye? Damn the mer... She quashed that thought immediately and without a twitch. She could not begrudge Marhyd for her pride in the accomplishments of a distant ancestor, even one such as that. The sins of the mothers must not be held to the account of the daughters, and the House of Linnea had been loyal to the Crown for nearly two centuries now. Let the past remain buried in the mud and silt of time.

  "The fact remains," Marhyd continued, "that these creatures could not possibly propagate themselves in a normal fashion. And yet, more keep appearing all over."

  "Except the Mere Sangolia," the Duchess remarked.

  "And Your Grace has brought us to our next point," said the Ministra. "The final pods have returned from their collection of tithes in that sea, and yet again they confirm a complete and total lack of abominations."

  "Not a one seen," said Aysmin. "That sea is dangerous enough with its delphins and sharks, orcs and even cachalot, but there was nothing unnatural to speak of."

  The Ministra had a hand up, fingers wiggling to signal a question: "And the prisoner?"

  "What prisoner?" This was news to Yesca's ears, and that boded no less ill than if she'd known the worst beforehand.

  "Ah, yes. Her." The Duchess shrugged. "At the request of the Ministra, each pod of soldiers was given an amulet..."

  "One attuned to the presence of the profane," Marhyd added.

  "...with instructions to detain, capture, or seize any such person, creature, or item that might cause it to react. It was thought," she said, holding a lock glare on Marhyd, "that if the abominations were lairing in the Mere Sangolia, the one of these devices of hers mught suss them out. As I have said, however, no abominations were to be found within the borders of that sea."

  "But?" With the Mother of All as her witness, Yesca was certain that this one, small syllable was meant to follow the duchess's words. It was a tenet of her faith in the Goddess that all actions and thoughts would eventually -- and in fact were meant to -- converge at the appropriate place at time, at which point revelation would follow. And so it was today. The entire conversation existed solely to lead to this one, small, innocuous word.

  "But..." Aysmin continued, a scowl twisting her face askew. "One of these amulets lit within the presence of a particular mer, and the soldiers present did not act with sufficient tact and decorum."

  A harsh chuckle came from the Ministra's corner. "Meaning that they assaulted two of Her Majesty's subjects, kidnapping one and leaving the other for dead. Except the second one woke up with a headache, killed a soldier, and then sought grievance with the local elder."

  "I do not need your help to explain things, Ministra Marhyd!" barked the Duchess.

  "Just getting to the point, Your Grace..."

  Yesca's braid danced in the stillness as she shook her head and sighed. "How is the situation as it floats now?"

  "The mer that was taken into custody, Diana min Na?da, is now resting in a cell within the deeper tunnels of the cliff," said the Duchess. "Awaiting the attention of the ministry investigators. Her daughter, who brought the complaint, survived an attempt to silence her but was later killed by a pod of orcs while making good on her escape."

  "How convenient." Marhyd chuckled. "I suppose it was properly confirmed, her demise?"

  "Five witnesses."

  "Ah, good enough, I suppose. Let us allow the prisoner to settle for a few days. The feeling in my gut augurs well for the next week. I do not foresee anything changing much."

  Another frown almost crossed the Mitera's face, more at the choice of words than anything else. Visions and foretelling were the purview of the temple, and all beneath the firmament well knew that. Then again, the Ministra was wont to choose her words solely for reaction she could provoke. Yesca allowed herself a sigh.

  "Moving on to less... troubled matters, there is the planning for the princess's coming of age..."

  The meeting flowed onward, staying to the regular matters of business of Crown, Ministry, and Temple. For that small blessing, Yesca was thankful. Mundane as it all was, it was also soothing. There were too many unsettling things in the open waters, and sometimes in privacy she would ask the Mother of All just why they all had to arrive during her time as guardian of the currents. But, while she could not slay the monsters with her own clawed hands, Yesca could at least oversee some pageantry.

  A welcome distraction, indeed.