Chapter Five

  1.

  Shishi’s father told him life was like a river, and one must take heed at the forks. Then he himself disappeared down some cataract one day, and there was no one to say otherwise when Sorar’s men came to pick him up. His mother cried a lot, and hung from their feet, but neither he nor his mother could’ve done anything at that point.

  Shishi was not someone with a lot to say, but he noticed everything. The young man and two kids sitting on his boat now were strange. The children seemed to idolize him, and yet there was not one wisp of gold on his body. The children were merhumans, but the man was not. He smiled, sensing Shishi’s gaze on him. Shishi shivered.

  “Tan. Se,” the man broke the silence. “I have a story for you.”

  “Where are we going, Sir Archmage?” the girl asked. Shishi’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Call me Mer,” the man responded.

  “We are going to get some business done,” he smiled at Shishi again, as if to reassure him.

  “But now, since we have some time, why don’t I tell you of this? You have both heard of Wismeik. God Osaif’s concubine had a curse cast on her, and water would not leave her wherever she went. Even the deity could not help. Then Wismeik, a merhuman, came to the rescue simply because her suffering made him feel bad. He made the eternal shell, capable of weaning any disease away. An unheard-of accomplishment. And still, the merhumans fell. Where did people like Wismeik go?”

  “Wismeik is a story,” said the girl.

  “How do you know?”

  The children were silent.

  “People like Wismeik are often driven by ambition — and greed, lust, anger, frustration. They can end up breaking society if not kept in check — and that’s why you have rules, laws, order. But those same chains breed fear, suspicion, cancer — and that’s why we need Wismeiks around. The oldfolk forgot this.”

  “The humans fought against themselves and fought against a very hostile world. They embraced chaos and competition, and in the end emerged stronger than anyone. The oldfolk stagnated. Adversity is the greatest teacher, and that’s why we must find a great master for you two.”

  “I’m not fighting for the village,” said the surly boy. Tan put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Of course not, Se. You two are going to fight for me.” The man’s teeth positively shone now.

  “We are just leaf-pickers, sir,” Tan said.

  “I know. Orphans. Siblings. Friends. You’ve survived on scraps and slept only when nobody was around to bully you. You owe nothing to anybody,” the man steepled his fingers, “Everything will soon go up in flames, though. How will you survive? You have magical talent. Magic is power. At least you can sleep when you have power.”

  “We are merhumans, Sir Archmage,” the patient girl said. “Merhumans don’t have magic. Not for anything useful.”

  “That’s bull,” the boy now said. “I will, one day —”

  “Everyone has magic,” the man cut in. “Merhumans are just afraid, because anything too strong will stand out, and you can’t do anything alone.”

  “Am I wrong?” he suddenly asked Shishi. He pretended not to hear. “This is what they don’t tell you. Merhumans had this group of people called the Reya — some of the most powerful mages walking the earth. Their resistance to humans was bitter to the end. The Anteya nobles, on the other hand, chose to collaborate with the humans. They provisioned labour, channeled trade, and collected tribute — all for their human masters. They simply made the best out of a bad situation — but do you know why the Reya fell? For refusing to see the bad situation altogether. Till the end, they refused to pass their knowledge to the riffraff.”

  “You think we are riffraff,” said Se, the boy.

  “Of course not!” the man placated. “I’m just saying what they thought.”

  “If merhuman magic is so strong, why couldn’t it keep the humans back?” asked the girl.

  “What do you think?”

  “Because they were few...” she hedged uncertainly. “And they were tied to their territory.”

  “Correct. And merhumans have this weakness the most of all oldfolk. They can be monsters in the sea, but how’d a fish fight on dry sand?”

  “Fish?” the boy sputtered, clenching up his fists.

  “Peace! Peace! But you don’t believe me, right? That merhumans can be powerful monsters? Give me a quarter hour. I’ll show you.”

  2.

  Their section of the river was heavy with stripe-weed and big fish. Shishi knew. He had spent many hours tied to a boat’s bottom and left to drift. The lack of air underwater wasn’t enough to make him pass out — his scales always keping him awake, but doing nothing to ease the pain. He would open his mouth wider and wider, as if the water could make his lungs cool down. The water burnt instead, and he would keep opening his mouth and closing it back up until he was sure his jaws would shatter.

  A day under the boat, and he would give up hopes of ever getting out, his thoughts refusing to move. That would be when they’d pull him out. He wasn’t sure how much time would pass before he could see clearly and twitch his fingers. Nobody would pay him much attention, but as soon as he would sit up, they would tie him to a boat and throw him in again. Two more days like that, and Shishi would be ready to do anything to make it stop — even murder his mother, if they asked. They relented when his recovery started to take only an hour, and informed that so long as he did his part, he wouldn’t have to go down again.

  The strange man was looking at him now, but Shishi ignored him, resolutely gazing over his shoulder. The children would have it hard with Sorar, but the man could surely find a way out of their coming predicament. He looked like he had resources. Their fates were sealed the moment they set foot on River Suva. Who in their right mind brought children to Suva?

  “I am sorry. I need some time to get something. My brother’s boat,” Shishi said.

  “I understand,” the man nodded.

  “Tan, look! A merchanter!” Se pointed at the resplendent vessel that had popped up before them. It was big, at least seventy feet long and ten feet above the water. It was dressed in red, gaudy sails, but also looked lean and fast.

  “Your brother seems like a big man,” the man said to Shishi.

  His boat mightily struggled to stay balanced when the gangplank dropped with a boom. Mer, the man, was the to go. Shishi watched them all climb up, a new wave of grief invading his chest.

  Mer seemed to know his way around Sorar’s residence, and Shishi and the other two could only mutely follow. The men aboard were well-fed and energetic. Their hostility was palpable, but they merely watched as the group went through to the front deck.

  Sorar was sipping something hot, lazily watching the sun set. He was dressed simply at a glance, but those were magically reinforced fabrics worth a number of heads, imported straight from the capital. He looked curiously at Shishi, surprised to see his prey come to him of their own accord. Normally, almost everyone would’ve realized something was amiss by this point, and the decks would come alive with a lot of screaming, shoving, and catcalling.

  With an amused quirk of his lips, Sorar nodded to his henchmen, and it was at that moment the man appeared right in front of his face. “Hey, scoundrel,” he said, and slapped Sorar with a resounding clap. His porcelain cup fell and shattered on the planks.

  Sorar made to stand up, but the man pushed him down with a hand. He moved behind Sorar and clamped a fistful of his ragged hair. Shishi had never seen him shoot such a frantic look, but it had its effect — his men had Tan and Se by the throats now. Someone thumped the deckhouse walls, and they were fully surrounded in a minute.

  Sorar’s men used long cleavers, and those were not known for holding back. Shishi had seen them in action. Never at war, but he knew how they cut the flesh and broke the bone.

  Three men were pointing magical rifles at them from the cabin roof. Four more had the kids, and about twenty others were circling Mer like hungry cats now. The whole scene seemed too unbelievable to last more than a second, and that’s exactly what happened.

  “Get him!” Sorar roared. “Ah, ah, ah!!!” a dark liquid flowed down his forehead from where the man held his hair. There was a gunshot, but nothing happened. Shishi couldn’t see Mer very well now. The place he was standing at was strangely gloomy, and he could only see the eyes flash when he looked at Sorar’s men. Nobody moved.

  Sorar screamed, and one of his ears melted like candlewax. His eyes turned bloody, and he lifted a hand towards the river. Giant pillars of water stood up, bubbling and breaking apart like the elementals of lore. They toppled and crashed towards his back, converging where Mer was standing. The boat pitched, making Shishi grab a sack of turnips. The water hissed and boiled behind Sorar’s back, leaving the caster unharmed.

  That was it. With the man washed away, it was now Se’s turn to be bound under a boat. He wasn’t pretty looking, and there was no other place for boys like that. Tan would be sent to the red district — at least, she would have a few days of relative peace in the hold before they reached Suva. The pleasure-dealers wouldn’t take spoiled goods, after all. The one that broke the goods got to buy it — as Shishi’s colleagues liked to put it.

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  This time, he wouldn’t look in the hold. He would try his hardest not to.

  Tan’s face whitened, and Se looked fierce for a second before he was picked up by the scruff of his neck. It would be simple, routined movements from thereon, but an amused voice froze them all.

  Mer was somehow on the cabin roof now. “Sorry for the ear,” he said like nothing was happening. “It was the only way to draw your attention.”

  “Filthy human,” Sorar spat out a red glob of saliva, hunching down in pain.

  “True. But they aren’t,” Mer pointed at Tan and Se. “I want to give them to you.”

  “Speak clearly,” Sorar gritted his teeth.

  “Well, I am not giving them to you permanently. I just want you to train them.”

  “I thought we had an agreement,” Sorar said bitterly.

  “Huh?”

  “So why are you on my side of the currents, filthy human? How dare you sit on my roof and tell me what to do?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I have never touched a human vessel. I have always paid my dues at Suva. I have never —” Sorar’s hands stretched out again, and twin pillars of water raced again at Mer. He simply got up and ran, passing though the steam and landing in front of Sorar. He raised a hand, as if to slap him again, and Sorar took a step back.

  “Stay there!” the pirate leader warned. One of his men pressed a knife on Tan’s blouse, and blood flew from his fingers.

  “Listen, scoundrel,” all Mer’s humour was gone now. “I don’t have much time. Are you going to listen to me or not?”

  “Filthy human,” Sorar grinned bitterly, then screamed immediately as one of his fingers went up in black smoke. The man hurting Tan yelped and dropped his knife. The skin on his palm was gone.

  “Sorar Rijas. You hate humans. Yet, you traffic merhumans, kill them, and plunder their livelihood. ‘The Shark of Suva!’ You’re just a scoundrel.” Another of Sorar’s fingers misted away.

  “You say you are an icon of power, a merhuman of note. Yet, no one has harmed them more than you. You are mine now, little shark.” Another finger, gone.

  “Like it or not, you will teach Tan and Se. You will fight not me, but them. You will live until they are strong enough to kill you.”

  “Now, Shishi,” Mer looked right at him, stopping his heart. “Grab me a rope, will you?”

  “Yes... yes, Archmage,” he spluttered. Then ran.

  A rope was tied to the prostrated Sorar’s neck, like a common dog. Mer tied the other end lightly on his fingers, and then turned back to the rest of Sorar’s terrified men, ordering them to turn the vessel back, towards Orshaa village.

  3.

  Orshaa had fallen asleep when the boat appeared on their riverbend. Consequently, there was no one to cry an alarm telling of Sorar’s arrival. The pirates never came for a good cause. Usually, it was either to exchange three sacks of rice for a villager or to stay behind for a sunny night of debauchery. In Shishi’s case, five sacks of rice had been thrown at his mother’s feet since she was making that big of a fuss. Eventually, though, she would’ve eaten if there was someone to make her — he dearly hoped someone had done so.

  Once the boat thudded against their old, ever-dirty dock, Mer and the two children were the first to disembark, leading the blood-soaked Sorar by his rope. The pirate’s eyes still burned hatefully, and he looked around at the shadows, as if they, and the not the archmage, were the reason for his humiliation. His crew was just as restive, but they kept their heads down and whispered among themselves. Shishi looked for One-Handed Rom in the gaggle but couldn’t find the hairy man. The cruel giant had a magical prosthetic in place of the missing appendage, most probably looted from a corpse, judging by the misfit. Men like Rom were not great warriors nor noble sages — they were a pack of hyenas who thought themselves lions in the group. When the group was captured, they hardly had the ingenuity or the pride to take charge of a situation. That job was Sorar’s, and Sorar was... well, missing a few fingers.

  There were quite a few startled shadows and muffled movements as their group made its way towards the village square. Nobody wanted to declare their alertness or announce their arrival, however; even in the dark, Sorar’s group spread a certain kind of anticipation.

  The village square was simply an empty space at its centre, enlivened by weekly markets and monthly travelling fairs. On unoccupied nights, a huge bonfire cast a glow on the nearby buildings, a staple of important discussions and folk festivals. Today, the bonfire was on, but its light was blocked by a big crowd surrounding it. Some faces in the back turned as Shishi’s group came close, but as a whole, it failed to take notice of the fearsome newcomers. Many of the faces seemed new, Shishi felt as he followed Mer to the front.

  “You are always welcome at Orshaa, my friend,” Headman Lorez was saying to a man even older than him. The man was lean and had a white, scratchy beard.

  “I know, I know!” the old man responded, sounding heavily intoxicated.

  “Good. But what do you expect me to do when you turn up at my door with a hundred boys? No notice? Where are you even going? Who is taking care of your village, Gollum? Where is Jhorka?”

  “Bah!” Gollum said. “You have to bring up that woman even now! Listen, this is not about me. This is about all of us!” he waved a drunken arm around.

  “Right,” Lorez said. “You can all sleep at the square tonight. Enough kindling for the whole night. Tomorrow, I want you out of my way. Good night, folks.”

  “All of us!” Gollum started addressing the crowd now. “Lorez, you nit-picking squirmworm. You pantless hat-pirate! We have started now and you won’t stop us. You will choose, or you will stay out of our way!”

  “Choose what?” Lorez was confounded.

  “This,” Mer stepped forward now, bringing Sorar around so that all could see him in the light. There were quite a few gasps, soon taken over by short, sharp questions and exclamations. The crowd now also noticed Sorar’s men among them and started peeling back like leeches from salt.

  “I am Gollum’s friend,” Mer said.

  “Best friend!” Gollum interjected.

  “And Gollum asked me for this. Anybody who takes advantage of merhumans shall now pay.”

  “How?” Lorez gasped after a long pause.

  “That’s not your concern. All I need to know from you is where you stand.”

  “Where is there to stand? Why have you even come to us?”

  “To take your children away, Lorez. We’ll take anyone that isn’t afraid. Sorar did the same, right? But this time, they can choose.”

  “Choose what?”

  “Life. A time before merhumans lost their spine.”

  “We are villagers. Merhumans.”

  “Yes, and that’s exactly who I, Lilek, want. This moment won’t come again in your lives. This is the moment you choose where life takes you — another safe night in your little rooms, or that lawn behind the moon you used to think was real.”

  Lawn behind the moon? The Great Lilek was tempting them with children’s stories. But then, Shishi noticed how the shadow beneath their feet looked bottomless, and felt his heart sink again. That shadow wasn’t real. It wasn’t something that should exist. Just like the lawn behind the moon.

  No, Shishi had no right to go there. It was for others, others who hadn’t been made to — no, others who hadn’t done things like him.

  It was only the bonfire that was speaking for a long time. Lorez looked lost in thought, and when he opened his mouth, he looked five years older — “I can’t, I really can’t allow it, sir. We can’t afford to lose anyone. We already lost one to Sorar this year. Three went to Suva. Two died of age, one of fever.”

  “Then how about this? For each head, you get a silver imperial. If anyone from the village can defeat Sorar, you get a gold coin. All from the pirate’s dear treasure, of course.” Sorar balked at this, and immediately dropped to a knee, clutching his head. “Manpower is not the only concern Orshaa has, from what I can see.”

  Lorez had no answer to this. He had been had, but it was hardly possible for the man to seem eager now. A silver coin could feed a family for six months — three thousand mannasts! A gold coin was ten times that. Depending on what happened, a few golds could have their storehouses repaired, the village wells deepened, some walls strengthened, and still have plenty left.

  “This is lunacy!” Lorez found some strength in his voice now. “No offense, Great Lilek, but you are one man, and the Empire’s laws are backed by thousands upon thousands. We are but sand before its tides.”

  “But am I?” Mer smiled. “If the laws had space for Sorar, they’ll have space for me. Come, anyone? You don’t have to defeat Sorar. Just show him what a small, weak man he is.”

  Nobody moved. Nobody would move. The world moved in shadows, when it wasn’t time to move. The boatman rowed the boat when a young bride was going to her mother’s, alone. It moved towards the Shark of Suva’s beautiful vessel, and towards the city of Suva, which had eaten up many a bride before. The world didn’t move when it was supposed to — in clear moonlight.

  Somehow, Shishi’s legs moved. He wasn’t one of the village anymore, but they still brought him to the bonfire. “Shishi!” Lorez cried.

  “Let me try, revered Archmage.” He bowed to Mer.

  “Traitor,” hissed Sorar, and spat to the side.

  “What are you doing?” Lorez almost screamed. “Let me call your mother. This is the greatest thing that could have happened, boy!”

  “No, Lorez-pa,” he said. “Let her sleep. I was taken away already. You couldn’t stop it. So let me try.”

  “Fair enough, Shishi Reya.” Mer smiled. “Let them see what you are made of.”

  4.

  Shishi had never been at the heart of the crew’s antics. He had eaten from the scraps, smirked alone at the jokes he’d overheard, and put things in their right place when no one was looking, because he had always had that itch, even if getting caught would’ve been disastrous. He had watched Sorar use magic quite a few times, and ironically, had never wondered how a merhuman was so powerful. Sorar was Sorar, and that was it in his mind.

  He also knew, therefore, Sorar was far from a one-trick pony. He could read the water, throw it around in those pillar-shapes, and wrap someone’s body in water — used mercilessly on Short Jewa when they caught him saving more money than he earned. Jewa’s breath had bubbled out of his encasement and his eyes had turned red before he had dropped dead, splashing water all over the deck.

  That Sorar was eyeing him now, probably with much more acrimony than he had had for Jewa. “Runt, you brought them to me on purpose, didn’t you?” he asked Shishi as a pillar of water formed behind him.

  Shishi took a step back. Then another. If that hit him, they would have to pick him out of the ground with spoons. What had he been thinking? What would dying here accomplish? The archmage had them all anyway; there should have been opportunities to escape later. How much time did he have?

  Shishi looked at the crowd for anyone that could help. The pirates jeered. Others watched mutely. Lorez was waving his hands before the archmage. Something hit Shishi in the stomach and doubled him over. “Look at me, runt!” Sorar was roaring.

  Shishi opened his mouth to breathe. Nothing would come. There was a gaping feeling below his throat, and water all around his body. His shirt had ripped away in the front.

  He hadn’t thought he would be back under the boat so soon. He had been trying so much to avoid thinking, after all. Why was death such a long-drawn process? Why couldn’t it end in a second? Why did it act as if Shishi had a choice in the matter? That choice made his blood pop, his breaths vanish, and his panic be sealed in a coffin.

  Shishi looked up from his knees. Anyone to help him — anyone would do, because he couldn’t help himself any longer. Sorar looked happy. A wall of water blanketed Shishi from behind, gliding through his hair and his clothes to entomb him completely. It pulled him upright only to let a massive pillar of water crash down on him, making his bones creak in protest. He opened his mouth to protest, and the remaining breath misted away. Water came into his eyes and his nose now, turning the entire world softly aglow. His lungs expanded, expanded, and then he remembered Pior.

  Pior, one of whose legs was skinnier than the other. Pior, who was older than Shishi, came from just another village up the river, and could never walk sufficiently fast. Pior, who had taught him to row his boat. Pior, who was good for nothing but catching ferry fish for Sorar — brides and tourists and careless tradesmen. Pior, who knew his gig was up, and still taught Shishi to crush his feelings under a rock and do his job, because otherwise, Shishi would be under the boat.

  Shishi had been under the boat. Not long enough. They had still sent Pior away. Somewhere that would still pay for a crippled boatboy, wherever that was. It was Sorar. Sorar had to pay. Shishi looked at the so-called Shark. Such a powerful man, and yet, someone had melted his ear away.

  The coward had the audacity to cock his head, as if puzzled why Shishi wasn’t crying yet. He took a step forward. Sorar’s water pulled him back. He took another step forward. Nothing was strong enough to keep him back.

  Then Sorar’s throat was in his hands. He was roaring. The man’s eyes bulged with amazement. The water around Shishi fell away, and Sorar threw a haymaker at him. It caught him in the head and deposited him on the ground, stunned. Another pillar of water was forming in the air — gargantuan this time, heavy and black.

  “Enough,” the archmage whispered, and tugged firmly on the pirate’s leash.

  Drops fell all around Shishi. It was dark a few meters away, but there had never been this much light before. This is how it felt when the world moved how it should! Not in shadows, but as in fairy tales, as in myths, and as on days when archmages fell out of the sky and captured unstoppable pirates, just for fun.

  Shishi looked at Sorar, the man that had made him tremble at the thought of water for weeks and months. “Mudfish. Weakling. If I can’t be stronger than you, what good am I for? I will kill you, just you wait.”

  “Great words, Shishi Reya!” Mer clapped. “Welcome aboard.”