Mrythdom: Game of Time (25 page)

“Your mother is the queen?” Aurelius spoke a little too loudly, drawing curious glances from all sides, but all those prying eyes quickly found Cardale, and then looked away, their curiosity satisfied. Cardale was right; everyone here knew his shameful secret, but Aurelius couldn’t believe it; a man born to the royal family had become a despised outcast in his society simply because he wasn’t handsome enough. He’d never heard of such a thing—and how any mother could permit that when she had the power to change it was equally beyond him. The more he learned about mermaids the more he realized just how heartless they were.

Cardale smiled bitterly. “Do I not bear a resemblance to my mother?”

Aurelius’s horrified frown turned sheepish. “I didn’t say that. . . .”

“It’s okay; everyone thinks it. She’s so beautiful and I’m so . . .
me
. I get my looks from my father, but unfortunately I didn’t get any of
his
better attributes either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s all I’ve known, and there are still others worse off than me. My limited status here has afforded me some protection. No other vestal has been spared so many selections to fight in the ring.” His smiled broadened to a grin. “At this rate I may die before they kill me.”

“Surely there’s something we can do for you. We could take you with us when we leave. . . .”

Cardale’s eyes widened, then darted to either side, noting the suspicious attention their neighbors were giving them. His expression and voice took on a suddenly flat character. “There’s no way.”

“There’s always a way.”

Cardale’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head. “Let’s speak no more of this.”

Aurelius was about to object when Gabrian leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Have a care, boy. You cannot interfere with his fate without changing your own.”

Aurelius shot the old wizard a narrow-eyed look, wondering if he spoke from having seen a glimpse of the future or from sheer, heartless caution. Either way it was moot; they couldn’t escape, and even if they could, they still had to find the relic. For now, they were as much prisoners in Meria as any other man.

On that depressing thought, Aurelius turned his attention to his food. It was surprisingly good. The various types of seafood had familiar flavors, though when combined with the strange, colorful sauces and the varying types of seaweed, they took on a whole new appeal. He commented on the various colors and varieties of the seaweed. Cardale told him that the blue seaweed was called Shapi. It was sweet and tangy like a citrus fruit, made up of thin stalks and delicate fronds. The green was Ristal; it was flat and long like broad blades of grass, and often tied around morsels of fish. It had a more salty, savory taste. The red seaweed was Graw; it was surprisingly thick and tough to bite into, but filled with a sticky juice that tasted like sour honey, while the purple seaweed was strange and sharply flavored—just a small piece of it was incredibly spicy and sweet, but fragrant like a flower. It reminded him of a more floral version of ginger root. Cardale called that one Cachota.

The cuisine was incredibly unusual, but not at all bad. He was somewhat concerned that all the fish they were eating was raw, but it was either that or starve. A skeptical part of him wondered what the average life expectancy for a man in Meria was. Did they all die young of disease? Was that part of the city’s population control system? At least he had a reasonable certainty that all of the food was fresh.

After dinner, the vestals began clearing the tables. Dishes and cutlery were piled into large woven green baskets that looked like they were made of the same fiber as the men’s clothes. Incidentally, those dried, ropy green fibers also resembled the green seaweed, Ristal, which they had just been eating. After a few minutes of watching the other vestals work, one of them shot him a smirk and said, “Too good to clear the tables, eh?”

Aurelius smiled apologetically and promptly joined them. He didn’t want to attract more ire than he already had. As he was clearing the tables, he noticed that very little food had been left on the plates and platters, but what food remained wasn’t scraped off. No one bothered to save anything, though Aurelius supposed it wouldn’t have kept for more than a few hours if they had. Without refrigeration, the food would need to be fresh for every meal.

The vestals began filing from the dining hall with their baskets full of dirty dishes, heading for a dim corridor which lay to one side, all but hidden by an overgrowth of glowing red and blue coral. The corridor gradually descended, eventually bringing them to a stairwell and some old, broken elevators. A pair of broad viewports flanking the elevators distracted Aurelius with a startling view. He walked up to them to admire the fields of purple Cachota sprawling out from the base of the city far below. The city itself seemed to be built upon the sea bed and rose monolithically from there, sparkling in all the colors of the rainbow from the coral reefs which had overtaken it.

Eventually, Aurelius followed the last of the diners into the stairwell, carrying his own basket full of dirty dishes. He turned and caught a glimpse of Reven carrying two such baskets, while Gabrian struggled along with a smaller one. They descended over ten flights of stairs, and by the time Aurelius saw the men at the head of the group leaving the stairwell, he was panting from the exertion. The basket was heavy and he hadn’t expected to have to carry it so far. The landing at the bottom of the stairway opened out into a large room that was roughly octagonal with dark corridors arcing off at various angles. The room was airy, but close from so many people crowded into it. Aurelius couldn’t even see past them to venture a guess at what purpose the room might serve or why they’d stopped there. Soon he began to hear splashing sounds, and he pushed to the front of the crowd to see what was causing the sound. He tried to ignore the irritated looks he received as he shoved past.

When he reached the front of the group, Aurelius saw what they were doing there. More than half the room was flooded, and it appeared to have been some type of corridor junction before it had flooded. The vestals were busy submerging their baskets of dishes in the water and leaving them there, weaving back through the crowd to the stairwell. Aurelius followed suit and frowned. They didn’t really expect the dishes to clean themselves did they?

Perhaps the maidens would come to clean them later. Or maybe the vestals would return to do it before the next meal. Just as Aurelius was about to turn and leave with the others, he caught a ripple of movement across the surface of the water. He squinted and saw a low wave rippling out from the branching corridors to greet them. When that wave washed up over Aurelius’s boots he saw all the tiny, tentacled creatures it had brought. Two stayed on his boots and began crawling higher. He hastily kicked them off and backed hurriedly away from the water’s edge. There were thousands of them, finger-sized and wriggling their way into the baskets. Aurelius watched with horrified fascination.

Cardale appeared beside him and said, “Grupees. Hungry little blighters, but don’t worry; they’re harmless. The little ones, anyway. Come on, we’d better get washed up before tonight’s challenge. Will you be joining the other vestals at the top of the ring?”

“Ah, I’m not sure,” Aurelius said, following Cardale back up the stairs to the dining hall. “The princess asked me to join her earlier, but I think I may have offended her, so we’ll see what happens.”

“You offended the princess?” Cardale asked, turning a worried look over his shoulder. “What did you do?”

Aurelius was about to blame it all on her, since she’d practically tried to rape him with her pheromones, but he held his tongue, remembering that Cardale was technically her half-brother—for all he knew maybe even her full brother.

“We had a
disagreement
,” he said, and left it at that.

“Well, be careful. Lasha is used to getting her way, and it’s usually better to let her have it.”

Aurelius frowned in the darkness of the stairwell. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

*   *   *

Aurelius was just drifting off to sleep on a reasonably comfortable couch in his quarters when a knock sounded at the door. He roused himself with a groggy sigh and went to answer the door. He pulled it open with a groan of stubborn hinges, and there on the other side he saw Lashyla, flanked again by her two guards. She was wearing a sunny smile and not much else. Aurelius had grown used to her revealing attire, but his gaze still lingered where it shouldn’t. Her smile broadened knowingly and she took him by the hand, caressing his fingers between hers.

“Hello, Aurelius.” She went on caressing his hands, and he felt a spreading warmth and ease. Some distant part of his mind recognized it for what it was and he hastily tugged his hands free of hers.

“Princess,” he said, forcing his eyes to stay above her neck, but even her face was seductive.

“Are you ready to watch tonight’s challenge?”

Aurelius turned to defer the question to the others, but Gabrian and Reven were already walking toward the door. “Seems like we are,” he said, turning back to Lashyla.

She frowned. “Dressed like that?”

Aurelius turned his gaze down on his black flightsuit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You cannot go as you are.” Her gaze skipped to Gabrian and Reven. “Any of you. There will be appropriate clothing in your closets. Come.” And with that, she strode into their room and led them to a closet. Aurelius frowned at the ropy green material of the clothes that were handed to him. They didn’t look or feel very comfortable. He emerged from the bathroom in his new vestments with a grimace; the clothes were loose-fitting and strong, but not comfortable at all. The rough fabric chafed against his skin as he moved. Lashyla admired him with a critical eye, then nodded and smiled. “It will do.”

“I feel like I’m wearing sandpaper.”

“Sandpaper?”

“Paper with sand stuck to it.”

Her smiled changed to a grin and she walked up to him to rub the material between her fingers. It became smooth and glossy. “They will get more comfortable as you wear them.”

Aurelius frowned. “I hope so.”

“Let’s go,” she said, looping her arm through his. On their way out they met Gabrian and Aurelius in the living room, both already changed into matching green tunics. Reven looked even more uncomfortable in his, and he’d split the front of his shirt open while trying to get it on, leaving his hairy chest to poke out in defiance.

Aurelius cast Lashyla quick glance, then pointedly gazed at her arm where it was looped through his. He’d expected her to still be angry that he’d rejected her before dinner, but somehow she was ignoring that little detail and spreading her pheromones in a hazy cloud around him once more to make him forget it, too. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, or if she was even aware that she was affecting him that way, but before he could say anything, she said, “Mermaids have a strange effect on men. We can’t control it. I can no more stop attracting you than I can stop being attracted to you. The two are one and the same.”

Aurelius raised an eyebrow at her. “Then you’re not doing it on purpose?”

She turned to look up at him with a sweet smile and shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Well, I guess I can’t blame you for what you are, but I still wish you’d be . . .”

She regarded him with wide, curious blue eyes until understanding dawned and she nodded. “You want me to be less forceful.”

Aurelius smiled and lifted his arm where it was entwined with hers. “In my culture we’re not so . . .
affectionate
with strangers. It makes me nervous.”

At that, she un-looped her arm from his, and Aurelius was abruptly afraid that he’d angered her again. He remembered Cardale’s warning about letting the princess have her way and he almost reached for her hand to reassure her. But then he felt a little of the haze in his mind lifting now that she was no longer touching him, and he settled for reassuring words instead. “Lashyla . . .” She turned to him with a blank look. “I’m sorry. Our cultures are just very different.”