The Naiad’s Necklace - Temple Of The Mermaid

Book One

Chapter 11 (excerpt)

“… and Gentlemen.”

The turtle’s name was Prescott. He was loved by many and all. Prescott was the “it” guy to know in the Naiad Underground. He had a much farther reach than the late great Bosco. According to Gattie he was in contact with dozens if not scores of naiads; he could remember complex messages; and was able to carry up to one (1) necklace plate in his mouth for delivery (if he had to) within a reasonable distance. He was also known to have swallowed pearls for transport at point A and then expel them upon arrival at point B. He delighted in swimming and traversing the energy carriage water pipe system, he was great with names, and generous with his time. ‘An all-around stud and he could fit in the palm of your hand.

Gattie employed him to send messages up to Second and Third Floor in the “Roller 24-5” stack of apartments. Fourth floor was an open territory (mostly) and it was where the severely damaged and elderly naiads ran the food dumps. Prescott was friendly with them as well and used their space to connect back to any stack of apartments in the entire lower Temple. He kept to his turf. He knew other turtles and crayfish that had their own things going; other neighborhoods and agendas. He was careful not to encroach upon competing turfs.

Gattie introduced him to Joy as Market began for the upper floors. She wanted Joy to comprehend this critical piece of the supply chain “just-in-case.”

“Alright everyone, here’s Prescott!” She brought him into the living quarters early while everyone was waking up. Gat and Joy had just come off an overnight shift and had prepared the big bowl with a preserve of mashed sea-cucumbers poured over seaweed and garnished with slugs. After this, she was preparing to bag and deliver half the gourmet salad to Cassie (Just like “Nosh-Dash.” I should wear a backwards red baseball cap), then purchase another batch of empty vials from the Color Guard, and maybe nap at their place. Maybe even crank cans for them as well. She had another visit planned to see Fannler, the guard bribed at the end of the Dugong tunnel. In the moment, though, Acara, Pootz, and Danio exclaimed their delight thusly:

“Oh my God! Prescott! I love Prescott.”

“Hey. It’s my cute little man.”

“Yiss. Hey buddy.”

The three of them spit in their hands, rubbed their palms together vigorously, and rinsed them in the floor water. Joy twitched at the simultaneousness of the ritual, but then decided she better do the same herself. Gattie respectfully set Prescott in Acara’s open hands.

Prescott stretched his head out of his little shell, turned it up toward Acara’s face as though he were turning his face toward the warm rays of the sun, and (swear to God) smiled.

“Oh, Prescott. Wish me luck for Market.”

“Whisper whisper. Whisper whisper.”

“I’ll try Prescott. No, I mean I will.”

“Whisper whisper. Whisper whisper.”

“(sigh) I’ll keep that in perspective.”

A tear rolled down Acara’s cheek and she looked heavenward blinking her eyes to make the tears stay inside. Danio accepted Prescott with one hand and offered him a bite of seaweed with the other.

“Are you hungry little guy?”

“Whisper.”

The courteous sea turtle chomped the leaf. He chewed deliberately for his rapt audience, and then swallowed with a tiny “gulp.”

“Whisper whisper whisper whisper.”

Danio smiled; humbled. “Of course you’re right. I know you’re right. It just—it just takes time, you know?”

“Whisper whisper.”

“So true. Wise words.” She passed him to Pootz.

“Hello again. I hope your family is doing well. Send them our love—” The other three nodded affirmation. “—and your health? I hope you’re doing well.”

“Whisper whisper (cough) whisper whisper. Whisper whisper.”

“Well, you should do something for yourself for a change.”

“Whisper whisper whisper whisper whisper-whisper. Whisper? Whisper whisper.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.” Pootz handed him to Joy.

“Little dude is like a Magic 8 Ball or something,” she chuckled nervously. Joy lifted the creature and held him before her face.

“Hello. My name is Joy.”

“Whisper whisper whisper. Whisper whisper.”

“Hang on. All I can hear is ‘whisper whisper whisper.’ Am I doing it wrong?” Prescott closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Hold him really close and watch his mouth,” Gattie suggested. Joy complied and spoke again.

“It’s good to meet you. I bet you know a lot about what’s going on around here.”

“Whisper whisper…”

“Nope. Still nothing,” Joy slouched. Prescott raised his eyebrow muscles and sighed a little turtle-sigh.

“Try holding him to your ear.” She did. This time it worked.

“Whisper whisper whisper!”

“Oh!” Joy recoiled. “Well yeah. Of course. I mean—of course I will.” Joy handed him back to Gattie who, in turn, transported him back to the workroom. She gave him some info to pass along, bid him a fond “arewell-fay,” and slid him down the water track like a puck on a shuffleboard table. He did a twist and shot up the suction pipe with his flippers a’flappin.’

Meanwhile in the other room, Pootz asked the question:

“So, what did he say to you?”

“Don’t worry,” Danio said while reading Joy’s concerned reaction, “half the time I think he just says what you already want to hear.”

Acara scoffed.

“He told me to try and not kill too many people,” Joy said. The other three took a moment to absorb and ponder. They sat at the table and began tucking into the salad bowl.

“Well, that is good advice, in any case,” Danio said while savoring a dollop of creamed sea-cucumber.