Book Five
Excerpt from the opening chapter “Wonderful Wonderful Copenhagen”
The waters warmed as they broke into a southeasterly current. Twenty-five miles (40 kilometers) out, Joy and Katy reacquired the scent of Temple Eight and a larger scrum of civilization. Invisible bits of it were floating on the surface, rising from below, and drawing them in with the current. They both instinctively knew when to dive. Katy took a breath that she wouldn’t need to replenish for an hour and down they went.
Joy drove Katy low into the dark. Into what on Normal-Earth would be considered the edge of the North Sea Basin. They bottomed then rose with the terrain. Barely lit Ilehos rings passed beneath in clusters. These had no coin-corral and no discernable sinkholes. Sailors lost at sea, she figured. Blue and pink jellyfish grouped few and far between, big long ornate flowing creatures; four could likely incapacitate a ‘man, nai’d, or maid. The seafloor rose a few hundred feet, while a canyon to the north remained sunken. A rise followed on the other side of that. They ran low; the canyon widened. She followed through and into its trench, passing the city above on her right. Her aim by turning into this channel was to circle and approach Copenhagen from its northern high ground. Schools of fish passed her coming and going, coming off the plateaus, and blowing through shelved areas heaped with pale barnacles.
“Lotsa flat fish,” she remarked in her generally observant way and wondered if colder waters led to flatter fish. She picked out rays in the canyon bottom and brown speckled skate. Plenty of eel and lamprey climbing the walls. She kept eye-level with the rising plateau. At 250 fathoms she was able to detect light from above. This was Temple depth. Ilehos dotted the plateau seascape. The major clusters lay ahead. A Crossing bridge faded in before her – not the one she abandoned – this drew in from the north and crossed the canyon in a short span. No one was on it; no merfolk near. She passed beneath, through a massive stone archway. It hummed. Joy and Katy both could feel a vibration and low rumble; faint but persistent.
A mile ahead a pinnacle rose from the floor of the bay, mounding up to a lookout point: A tourist attraction, all still submerged. Merfolk aplenty milled about as it rose up 600 feet further toward the surface, giving it better lighting in differing shafts of blue, white, and silver. Beneath it, inset back into the community, still 200 feet below the surface, was an elevated circular gathering area with merchants and trading carts. This was the scenic viewing area. It was as though Joy were a camera drone rising out of the Grand Canyon, looking back at the tourists and their parking lot. And the main attraction – this pinnacle of rocks – was between the sightseers and Joy.
A rotation of six Constables oversaw the sparse yet animated patrons – women, mostly – Mermaids and a half dozen Naiads. Naiads out in public – on an “outing” – they must have special permission… or they’re rich. The Constables seemed bored. The pinnacle ended in a small trio of boulders atop of which sat a statue: a stone mermaid looking past Joy to the distant horizon where the great mirrored ceiling disappears into the black. The tall pinnacle tapered up like a giant drip sandcastle. The mood was reverent. This was a holy site. Joy’s heart took a hit as she and Katy closed within a dozen yards. Visitors swam up and out from the shelf and set smoothed rocks, gems, and small personal effects in the nooks of the stone spire. One might be placed and cause another, older token, to tumble down. This seemed to be by design. A very large, old, pile of these objects comprised the pinnacle’s base. Plates, gems, shark-teeth necklaces, locks of hair, sculpted clay dolphins… all returned to the seabed to be crawled over and picked through by crabs. The net effect caused the spire to twinkle.
The statue on top; the woman – she was so small – regular mermaid size. Joy in her soldier’s garb, mounted as she was, phased none of the other visitors. She was just another pilgrim. The others felt her presence, felt the emotion hit her unexpectedly, and accepted it as just another day at the shrine. Women were praying. The few Naiad visitors seemed particularly overcome. She had followed the statue’s gaze – its sight-line – from the open ocean right into port, not knowing she was on the line as she approached: amazing. Like one woman might put herself in her friend’s sightline, wave a hand, and say, “Hey there lady, you seem lost in thought.” Joy rose face to face with the little mermaid. The statue looked right at her, right through her. Her legs. The statue’s legs folded beneath her as she sat; they were half naiad and half mermaid. She hadn’t made the full change. She was forever caught half-way.
Joy dismounted, kept a hand on Katy’s saddle, and twisted Rudy, getting the blood flowing again. She flowed past and low – beneath the statue’s sightline, processing her thoughts. At first, a few minutes before, and a few dozen yards back she wondered if this wasn’t, in fact, “the Empress.” Some supernatural haunted rock or something. Like a dead Pharaoh, maybe. The statue held power of a sort; emanating something for sure. A few hundred years of worship inculcated it with its own hallowed aura. The Mermaid and Naiad visitors built, over the same period of time, a permanent ring of emotion around the girl. Everyone could leave, the park could close, and the aura around the statue would remain for… forever, probably. And Joy’s soul, big as it was, unexpectedly drifted right in and soaked it up.
A gentle warm current flowed off the sightseer’s outcropping and pushed around the monument. Joy could feel it in her hair. She could smell the city beyond: merfolk, life, the crackle of action, and lots of food. She inhaled. The feeling to mark the occasion overcame her. Tears filled her eyes, pushed back, and flowed out, rolling across her temples and over her ears. She removed her Spadix crossbands and let the central pendant and straps loop around a lower rock; there abandoned. Joy planted one kiss on her fingertips and then touched them to the statue’s foundation rock. She spared a last look at the little mermaid’s legs as she withdrew her hand, noticing her own webbed fingers and black tipped fingernails.
Katy Ka tried to remain respectful but ahead in the gathering area was a cart selling dead pollack on a fork, and another selling sippy bottles of compressed air. She urged, tugging Joy to “Go there… … …go there.”
Joy put a hand to her face and hitched, shaking some tears loose. She passed to the outside edge of the mini-market circle so as to spare the folk in the zone the intrusion of a big overeager ples. It would be like riding a hungry horse into a church picnic.
An Elderly Mermaid with dark skin and curly grey hair put a hand on Joy’s shoulder as she passed and gave her a supportive rub. She wore a sash with a pendant Joy didn’t immediately recognize: two halves of a solid red circle on top of a blue X-bar. “Gam Hejerte-Hejerne” she intuited – from her knowledge of other Gams. Joy unironically thought of her real Gam Gam and the thought made her heart ache. She’d split the world in half for a Mom or a Grandma right about now. The woman reciprocated, registering a flash of pride in Joy: A tough looking mermaid soldier with her own ples. A rarity! With humility before the shrine, no less.
“There, there little Dugong Sister, it’s overwhelming. I know. It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright.” Joy put her hand on the old ‘maid’s hand and pressed. She looked back at the statue, itself looking forever north, and noticed a mother and daughter mermaid pair sitting lightly/floating on a double “U” park bench. The girl had a slate board in her lap and a stylus. She was sketching a picture of the statue.
Joy threw her arms around the old lady, held her tight, and cried into her neck.
“It’s alright baby, I know. I know. All we got is each other. That’s all there is.”
Katy Ka sighed.
Copyright (c) 2023 Matt Schumann