Odyssey

CHAPTER 19

Laquatus looked at the capital as he swam through the water, enjoying the comparative warmth of the ocean after days in the caverns under the continent. Turg swam alongside, his clumsy strokes amusing the merman as the ambassador continued down. The light grew dimmer as the bottom gained definition. From the surface, the city could not be seen, but it filled a huge stretch of the continental shelf. The buildings below lived, straining nutrients from the water to repair themselves and repelling pests. Steady streams of mer people swam through and above the city. A pod of whales called to the ambassador as they herded a school of fish with sonic calls toward the capital. Once a sign of tribute to the emperor, the cries sounded of onerous duty to the merman's ears. But what did he care for the opinion of air breathers? He felt the flutter of his gills to prove his superior nature.

The whales grew silent as mer warriors swam up to meet them, their lack of song more telling than any call. The soldiers' magic now herded the fish, their command lulling the school to an army encampment.

Laquatus noticed many soldiers and a distinct lack of traffic other than warriors. Wondering if some great danger threatened the kingdom, he headed for the palace. Perhaps a great feeding spiral of sharks swept through the ocean. Laquatus remembered that the seas could be suddenly violent as well as tranquil.

He neared the imperial residence and noticed a great dome inscribed with glowing characters. The huge gazebo-like structure was the exhibition site for traitors. The merman wondered who suffered there now?

He swam below the roof, nodding to the guards who observed him as he neared the dead. Several corpses floated in anchored nets, their bodies in pieces as cleaner fish and crabs slowly snipped off small bits of rotting meat. Unidentifiable parts of several different species were in some nets.

"Imperial justice, as swift and careful as always," he muttered as he swam to the wax placard inscribed with symbols. A guard, stationed to tell the illiterate what the sign said, relaxed as the ambassador looked over the words.

"CONDEMNED BE ALL TRAITORS WHO WOULD KILL THE EMPEROR ON HIS THRONE. THOSE WHO WOULD SERVE OTHER MASTERS ARE ETERNALLY DEVOURED HERE AND IN THE ABYSMAL DEPTHS."

"Guard," the aristocrat inquired in a bored tone. "What happened to bring these traitors here?"

Laquatus had left the seacoast having heard just that a message had arrived for him. Fearing that the coastal mission might have orders to arrest him, he continued to the capital, hoping he still might intercept Captain Satas.

He and his champion had swum through the caverns in pursuit, leaving all behind but a single guide for fear of the soldiers' loyalty to their captain. The ambassador wanted nothing to prevent the appropriate action, should they catch the tresias. They had swum without rest through the arteries of the continent. But Satas could travel the more direct paths, while Laquatus and especially the massive Turg made costly detours. They missed the good captain by days when they reached the coast.

The frog kidnapped a servant whom the merman interrogated before releasing with false memories of what occurred. The ambassador knew that he was recalled, not the reason for it. He and his jack left immediately for the capital. Only the knowledge that doom might await him tempered Laqua-tus's joy to be free of dry land. Now he hoped to hear what news might influence his return.

"These and other traitors appeared in the palace through a transport pool and reached the throne room," the guard related in a voice grown bored with repetition. "The emperor himself beat the attack off. The army still looks for traitors who may have escaped."

Laquatus nodded in thanks and continued on his way. An assault on the emperor might provide opportunities to explain his actions. He could explain fear of enemies intercepting his reports led to his silence regarding the orb. The palace grew closer, and he noted the observers peering from houses along the way.

The homes of nobles were closed up, few signs of the inhabitants visible. Years before the emperor and his wife had split, the cast-off empress had styled herself as queen in her own right. Many nobles, outraged by the emperor's arrogant and arbitrary manner, retired to the southern court. Aboshan became convinced that conspiracies must be in motion against him.

Laquatus had connections in both courts, and while no evidence existed against him, his exile to dry land soon followed the rift. Though the ambassador had no affection for the emperor, he had even less for his estranged wife. Llawan had become a champion of the displaced in Aboshan's rise to power. Laquatus had little use for those without the will or wiles to preserve their position.

His own exile he viewed as a purely temporary state. In addition, the queen opened dialogues with the air breathing races of the sea and the denizens of the deep ocean. Such species had their place, but it was subservient to the mer races and the upper ocean.

The ambassador swam directly to the palace, confident that his reception would be good. He concealed his fear. Revelation of any doubt might doom him if reported to the emperor. The guard recognized him and ushered him through the gates immediately. Laquatus was escorted through the entry halls, amazed at the high number of guards. He reasoned it merely a reaction to the earlier attacks. The interior of the palace hummed as counterspells resonated with the building's very fabric.

Laquatus was no longer as hopeful of his reception. He reminded himself that no mere amphibian could bring him down, Captain Satas be damned. The doorman failed to announce him, and briefly the ambassador wondered if an execution squad waited inside.

The emperor reclined in the nearly empty room with only a few courtiers present. Turg picked up the ambassador's nervousness and began to glower. His master sent him reeling back under a mental barrage. Though the mer ruler appeared unprotected, the hidden guardians were well known to those familiar with the court.

"Laquatus," Aboshan cried, rising and swimming closer. "How good to see you." The monarch had his trident in hand, and the ambassador decided boldness was in order.

"I am pleased and grateful to be here," Laquatus said and tried to appear concerned. "I was relieved to hear that you survived the attack."

"What do you know?" the emperor growled, raising the trident.

The ambassador reminded himself of the hidden guardians and the ruler's known powers.

"Only what I have heard on my way to the capital," Laquatus exclaimed, lowering his head in supplication. "I saw the bodies of the traitors and came immediately to see that you were well. I ask only how I may serve."

"They invaded our court through those very gates," Aboshan said angrily, pointing his trident. The walls seemed to move slightly as guardians almost revealed themselves at the violent gesture. "We were alone, our guards laid low by poison."

The ambassador nodded without fear, finding it unlikely that the monarch would kill his audience.

"We directed the waters to sweep our enemies away," the ruler said, his eyes lost in a refined memory. "Our guards finally came in, but a half-dozen of the scum still swam for us. We killed them in close combat despite receiving grievous wounds. We questioned the only survivor, but he took his own life before we could force the queen's involvement from him."

Laquatus nodded, sure that the enemies would become an even dozen before an official account of the event was set down. Perhaps they would be immortalized in a living mural on the palace walls.

"That brings us to you," Aboshan said with a pointed smile. "You have relationships with the queen's court. You might provide us invaluable service in proving her complicity." He swam back toward the throne, the ambassador following.

"I fear that my former acquaintances will not be forthcoming, sire," Laquatus said, careful to stay well away from the emperor's seat. "My banishment to the continent may have convinced them that 1 am no longer in your confidence or a position of power." A little of the bitterness at his exile leaked through despite the merman's best efforts to hide it.

"Easily remedied," Aboshan assured him. "We will give very public signs of our favor, concurring upon you suitable awards and titles."

"Then I fear those in the queen's court will question my motives," Laquatus replied, drifting in front of his sovereign with his head bent in humility.

"Tell them that your long sojourn on land has made you more amenable to the southern court," Aboshan said as he reclined in the stinging tentacles. "We are confident in your abilities at deception."

Laquatus could only humbly nod.

The great windbag, the ambassador thought, looking back on the interview. The emperor recited hours of conspiracy theory, searching for enemies everywhere. He called in secret informers who gave the most banal reports, which Aboshan tried to turn into damning indictments. Only the emperor's precarious hold on reality prevented him from unleashing pogroms.

The monarch acted at once to rebuild Laquatus's political stature, awarding him with a gold medallion and the appellation, Friend of the Emperor. The bauble was too heavy, and the friendship would last until Aboshan thought him conspiring with others or of no more use. Finally, the ambassador was able to reclaim his jack and pursue his true mission – locating Satas and the prize.

It was with some surprise that he learned the good captain was gone. He left for the coast before the ambassador even arrived at the capital. Laquatus, using his new status, found the entry logs for the day in question. The guard who admitted Satas to the palace vaguely remembered the little amphibian. He recalled directing the tresias to the treasure room. The ambassador called Turg to him from where the frog lurked and swam to the lower portions of the palace to find the sphere.

Laquatus stopped at the lowest entry way in shock. Instead of a valve or gate there was a soldier planted in front of a shimmering sphere. The guard had a humanoid torso, but instead of legs or a tail, the rest of his body was a long stalk. The lower portion of the column flared out and merged with an outcropping of the palace. The soldier swayed idly, his hands gripping a short spear. He saw the aristocrat and his jack and straightened, his lower body altering color as if drawing force from the structure surrounding him. Inside the sphere, or more properly hemisphere for it met the ground, was dry rock and a trapdoor.

"Greetings, Your Excellency," the guard said, tilting his body down. "How may I be of service?"

The ambassador still looked at the sight of dry land under the sea.

"Yes, it is something of a surprise," the warrior said, "but it was necessary for the workers from the continent." His body bobbed as he looked at the merman.

"What workers?" Laquatus asked, crowding closer.

"Why the workers the Cabal sent in response to the emperor's order several days ago," the guard said in puzzlement. "The care of the treasure room needed specialized services that the caretaker could not provide. They became absolutely necessary when the previous holder died during the traitors' attack."

"Drylanders, here?" Laquatus questioned, his tone alerting the guard to his displeasure.

"Do not worry," the guard said. "I keep close watch, and none of them can breathe water. The captain of the guard inspected them for signs of the queen's magic, and they all were clean. They are as trapped as surely as a meal in a shark's belly."

"I would inspect the treasure rooms. What should I do?" the ambassador said as Turg tried to slip around to the guard's back. His master warned him off, knowing that those serving in the palace would be inspected for signs of tampering. The waxboard showed Satas's sigil. The amphibian had arrived and left within a half-hour, days before.

Laquatus chuckled at the quick exit. There was every chance that the captain never reported to the emperor or anyone except the caretaker. The merman made his mark and prepared to transform. Turg was already in the bubble and standing up, preparing to pull open the trapdoor. The guard returned his attention to the outside passage. At least Laquatus was spared the indignity of being observed as he grew legs.

The ambassador emptied his lungs of water as the frog opened the trapdoor. Stairs led down the bowed timber from ships' hulk The floor was covered in muck and sand, and the smell of rotting seaweed rose through the door. Then the merman saw some of the workers inside and included rotting flesh as a source of the stench. The servants were, after all, from the Cabal.

"Ambassador Laquatus," a voice hailed him. A woman separated herself from the crowd of living and dead workers and hurried over. The underground room extended for yards in every direction. Groups of zombies and black-clad Cabal servitors piled garbage into baskets and dug down to rock. More timber waited, and Laquatus realized that they were putting up shelves instead of the matrix of pigeonholes and sealed pillars that sea people usually employed.

"I remember you from your marvelous party. I see you also brought my playmate." With a sinking heart he recognized Fulla, her braids plastered with mud against her head. "I would apologize for the mess, but I did not make it. Besides, I remember the condition of your embassy when I left."

Why did it have to be the dementia caster? Any ordinary servant or mage could be manipulated by false memories, but a despairing Laquatus remembered her resistance to his spells.

"Have I offended you somehow?" he heard her ask and brought himself back to reality.

"Not at all, my dear," he gushed, trying to match her enthusiasm. "I was just thinking what chance brought you here," he finished through gritted teeth.

"Well, I will be here for quite some time," she laughed gaily. She waved to the muck and mire. "1 and my staff are retained by your gracious emperor to catalog and repair the treasures. Wonders that are rescued, only to be buried here under your palace."

A sucking roar developed as zombies pulled at a chest, uncovering an opening to levels below. Water and mud cascaded down.

"Your previous caretaker placed items randomly in a series of chambers, of which this is only one," she explained as she walked to the hole, looking down into the water. Laquatus could feel a spell engaging, and the water slowly began to subside. More mounds of muck were revealed with a few gleaming pieces of metal. The debris glittered slightly in the light pumped from the palace above.

"One of your ministers was bright enough to realize that we needed air to work. He also discovered that some of the pieces were damaged by water," Fulla said.

Zombies splashed into the lower chambers and began filling baskets the servants handed to them.

"He failed to realize that withdrawing the water would settle everything to the deeper rooms and bury them. To be honest, I do not approve of the former caregiver. There is an unholy lode of mud to be cleared away."

The ambassador nodded dumbly, accepting that a servant of the Cabal would be the best judge of unholy. He realized with a sinking liver that tracking down the orb might still be a formidable task.

"Are there no records of where materials were stored?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head in amusement.

"No. Just a record of what the caretaker received," she said. "For example, the last entry is of a sphere that gave an impression of tremendous power."

The ambassador nodded with excitement. The prize was here.

"The logs show what came in and what went out, but the actual locations are a complete mystery. And that was before nearly everything sunk into different rooms when the water was forced out.

"Surely the other workers have some idea?" he questioned her, hoping there might be someone else to interrogate.

"What other workers?" Fulla replied with exasperation. "From the logs, almost everything was handled by the previous caretaker. I am informed that the servants who did work here cannot function in the open air." Baskets of gunk were thrown out of the entry hole to splat into the mud. "If you can call this open air."

She retreated to a stack of shelves with wax boards and paper books open.

"I and my colleagues are cataloging what we find and entering a reference to the original logs and a current position."

She appeared busy, but Laquatus could not equate her new position as chief curator with her career as a jack in the pits.

"How did you end up here?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. She glanced back, and her face filled with the demons that drove her.

"By the same process that cast you to the Cabal's far shore," she replied. Her features calmed, and she spoke without intonation. "What truly brings you here ambassador? I doubt it was a quest for close friends."

Laquatus considered his answer for several seconds. Just for variety he essayed the truth.

"The final object received here," the merman said. "I want it. What will it cost for me to have it my possession, no questions asked?"

The novelty of a straight answer seemed to disarm the dementia caster, and she fumbled for a response.

"A great many pieces were damaged," she finally said, turning to the shelves. "Some of them beyond repair. But even ruined, they might be of interest the Cabal for research purposes." Her face turned sly, destroying any attempt at disguising her greed.

"Done," Laquatus said simply. "Hold the piece for me when you find it. In return I will aid you in smuggling your loot back to the continent." He looked her deep in the eyes. "Cross me, and I will prick this bubble of air. Your bones can be catalogued by the next curator."

She started running her hands over the pieces already gleaned, like a shopper handling fruit in the market. Laquatus turned and walked to the stairs, soiled at the crassness of the deal and having legs once again.

He mounted the stair and dived through the bubble, transforming even as he swam away, ignoring the guard who recorded his exit. He surged up into the palace. He might have been within yards of the orb, but he could not detect its power. It was hidden from his magical senses. Rumor spoke of perhaps a dozen chambers under the palace, and who knew where the fool of a curator might have put it. The ambassador also worried about his monarch. Fulla was a wild card, who knew what she might say if questioned.

Aboshan emptied troves cared for by the empire's mercenaries and selkies, dumping them to decay in his palace. Only the ruler's love of control and hunger for power had brought the relics to the palace. Now the distraction of a simple assassination attempt washed them from his mind.

"Well," vowed Laquatus, "if it is conspiracies that truly engage him, then conspiracies he will have." The ambassador laughed in the bowels of the palace. He would bring new treacheries before Aboshan to conceal his own. Turg followed his masters, grinning as new plans spawned in the merman's mind.