The Tree of Water (25 page)

Now it made sense to him why the large conch was being used to send thrum messages to the Festival attendees.

The shell-horn crackled, as if it were being cleared of water. Then a thrum-voice spoke.

“Your Majesties, distinguished court, honored guests, and general riffraff, may I have your attention, please. The hippocampus reeve has an announcement.”

“What's a hippocampus reeve?” Char asked.

Coreon and Amariel shrugged.

“Well, a reeve is someone who's in charge of something, so maybe it's like the master of the sea horses,” Ven suggested.

“That seems reasonable,” Char said.

Just as he finished speaking, a large male merrow with a dark red-scaled tail swam elegantly to the shell-horn and put the tip against his forehead. His thrum came out in a sophisticated, somewhat high voice.

“Your Majesties, the Grand Derby is almost ready to begin. The Grand Derby is the final event before the closing ceremonies of the Summer Festival. The winning hippocampus rider will be presented with the greatest honor awarded at the Festival, the Grand Trophy.”

A smattering of polite applause-thrum rumbled through the depths of the sea.

“We have a very big problem,” Coreon said. “If they're running the Derby, then today must be Threshold. We came much later to the Festival than I had hoped. Once the Grand Derby starts, the Sea King will only be in power for a short time longer. I won't get a chance to talk to him and deliver the message the Cormorant sent with me. We'll have come all this way for nothing, and all the people in the Gated City will die.”

“We'll just have to find a way to talk to him before his reign ends,” said Ven.

The shell-horn crackled again.

“All riders are asked report to the kelp pens to prepare for the race,” the hippocampus reeve continued. “At this time, while we are awaiting the running of the Grand Derby, the second-to-last event, the Wild Hippocampus Roundup, will be held. Any prospective rider wishing to take part in the Roundup, kindly come to the center of the racetrack.”

Ven felt the merrow tense beside him.

“What's the matter?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

“I'm not sure,” said Amariel. “In the Grand Derby, all the racing hippocampi are tamed and all have riders who train them. But the sea is full of wild hippocampi. It would make for a pretty dangerous race, I would think.”

“The riders themselves look pretty wild,” said Char as a group of male merrows swam into the racing arena from different places in the crowd. They were more like the merrow men that Amariel had described in her stories to Ven, with wild hair, fat stomachs, flat noses and bubbles occasionally trailing behind them. One had an enormous orange mustache that matched the hair on his head, which stood on end like the petals of a sunflower. Another was wearing a large, silly hat and had a nose that looked like a pig's snout.

“All right, gentlemen, begin your calling,” said the hippocampus reeve.

Immediately the merrow men put their hands up to their mouths and began making strange, melodic thrum that caused Ven's eyelids to itch.

“Oh, I know what they're doin'!” Char exclaimed. “I once saw somethin' like this in a town when the sailors and I were on shore leave. There was this hog-calling contest, and a whole bunch o' grown men made right fools of themselves, gruntin' an' hollerin' an' squealin' as loud as they could, tryin' to get a pig to pay attention to 'em. It was embarrassing, to tell you the truth.”

“Do you think any wild hippocampi will answer?” Coreon asked.

Char shrugged. “Dunno. All the pigs ignored 'em.”

Amariel shook her head, then pointed into the drift.

“They must know what they're doing. Look!”

From the shadows beyond the great Festival grounds, large shapes with horses' heads and tails that curled into spirals began appearing. They were swimming quickly toward the racetrack, bucking and rearing as if they were trying to fight the merrows' calls, but were losing the battle. One large dark blue hippocampus with black spots was fighting so hard that he had turned himself upside down, and his curled tail kept unrolling and rolling back up again.

A wide vibration of what Ven recognized as laughter rose from the creatures that surrounded the racetrack.

Poor sea horses,
he thought.
It's clear that they don't want to be here, but the merrow song is impossible for them to resist.

“I'm gonna do it,” Amariel whispered.

“Do what?”

“I'm going to enter the Roundup.”

“What are you talking about?” Char demanded. “I know you want to be a Grand Derby rider, Amariel, but you don't have a hippocampus to ride. An' even if you did, I don't like the way this wild hippocampus roundup is takin' shape. It has
stupid
and
dangerous
written all over it.”

“Char's right.” Ven was watching a long orange hippocampus with hair as wild as the sunflower-haired merrows drag him around the racetrack by his mustache. Another pair of dappled giant sea horses were wrestling with each other, their long, curved necks clumsily entwined. The laughing thrum of the crowd got louder.

“Yeah, it's humiliating to have lobsters laughing at you,” Coreon said.

“And you're sure to get hurt,” added Ven. “Those hippocampi must weigh ten times what you do at least.”

“Nonsense,” retorted Amariel. “By the time they get to the racetrack, they're enchanted.”

“Enchanted? Really? Is that what that's called?” Char pointed to a potential rider who was exchanging tail blows with his mount, slapping each other in the face. Another merrow chased down a pink hippocampus and spat in its eye. The giant sea horse spat back.

“I guess I took that spitting too personally,” Char murmured. “It looks much more common down here than it is in the upworld.”

The merrow pushed past him. “Move out of the way, Chum. I need to get down there before the race starts.”

Ven grabbed her arm. “Don't do it, Amariel,” he pleaded. “You're going to get hurt, possibly badly.”

“Thanks for your confidence in me,” Amariel said bitterly. “This is my dream, Ven. I've told you that from the very beginning. I may never have a hippocampus of my own to groom and train. This may be my only chance. So if I call for one, and one comes, who are you to tell me I can't ride it? Let me go, and get out of my way.”

She wrenched her arm loose from Ven's grasp and swam quickly toward the center of the racetrack, where the male merrows were thrumming to their mounts. The hippocampi were beginning to settle down, allowing the merrows to put their bridles on.

“Maybe she won't get one,” Char suggested to Ven, whose stomach was turning over in worry. “Look at all the would-be riders that didn't get an answer.”

A loud roar of thrum laughter from the crowd washed over them. The sea creatures had noticed Amariel, the only female merrow, and the only youngling to come forward, and apparently they found her highly amusing. Even the Epona queen was laughing uproariously. Only the Sea King appeared disturbed by her entrance.

“What are you doing, little one?” he said. His thrum was deep and commanding, and it quieted the vibrations of the laughter into silence.

Amariel bowed awkwardly.

“I'd like to try and call a hippocampus, Your Majesty,” she answered.

The Sea King cast a glance at the hippocampus reeve, who shook his head.

“I believe it to be unwise,” he said. His eyes took in the sight of Amariel's shoulders sagging in disappointment. Ven was fairly certain he saw them fill with sympathy. “But the rules do not specify an age limit, do they?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the hippocampus reeve began, “but—”

“Let her call, then,” said the Sea King. “If, like some of these other merrows, she gets no answer, it wasn't meant to be. But if she does, well, then, I will have to assume that it is her destiny to ride in the race.”

Ven thought he saw the king's eye wink, even from very far away.

Amariel was quivering with excitement.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Well, get on with it, mer-child,” the Sea King said gruffly.

I wasn't sure what to hope would happen.

I know Amariel has wanted this most of her life. To ride a hippocampus in the Grand Derby was a dream she told me about the first time we met, while I was lying on a piece of floating driftwood in the middle of the sea, and she was trying to save me from drowning. She said that most female merrows had a great desire to explore the human world, and were willing to make terrible sacrifices to do so, but she was not. Her dream was of the Grand Trophy.

It's one of the things I like best about her.

I know this adventure is not at all what she had planned when she asked me to come explore the depths with her. Instead of going where she might want to have gone, we have run afoul of sea Lirin, taken on a mission with Coreon rather than just getting to show me the places she thought were most special about her world.

So I hope she gets a chance to ride a hippocampus.

But I am also afraid for her.

Amariel shook her arms to loosen them up.

Another round of laughter-thrum rippled through the crown.

Amariel ignored the laughter and put her hands to her mouth.

At first, no real thrum came out. The chuckling grew louder.

Then, after a moment, it died away, leaving a pure sound, clear and sweet, like the song she had sung to the coral and the elaroses.

Her call echoed throughout the Festival grounds, causing blossoms to erupt on some of the towering plant flags that were floating in the drift. Amariel slowly turned in a circle, sending her call out in every possible direction.

Then, after she had made a full circle, she stopped.

The assembly, including the Sea Queen and King, watched in silence.

Nothing happened.

Amariel looked around intently.

The Sea King and Queen exchanged a glance. Then the king looked to the hippocampus reeve, who shook his head.

“I'm sorry, mer-child,” the king said finally. “But you did your best. Perhaps at the next Festival, you can try again.”

Amariel look around again, then sighed.

“All right, then, clear the track,” the hippocampus reeve said briskly. “Riders, take your mounts to the starting line.” He gestured at a row of starfish, which scurried onto the track and formed a colorful marker in the sand.

“Be on your way, mer-child,” the king said to Amariel, who was still looking desperately into the drift for a wild hippocampus. Amariel straightened her shoulders and began swimming back toward her friends amid the raucous laughter of the crowd.

The look on her face was the saddest Ven had ever seen in his life.

What do I say to her?
he thought.
Maybe it's best not to say anything at all.

The chuckling thrum of the crowd changed suddenly. It sounded like a gasp, followed by even louder laughter. Ven turned and looked in the direction it was coming from.

A hippocampus was making its way slowly toward the track from the north. He was taking his time, sauntering in the drift. The beast was somewhat smaller than the other wild hippocampi that had answered the call, but vastly fatter. He was blue-green in color, puffing as he swam, and heading toward Amariel, who clearly had no idea he was there.

Char pointed over her head as she approached her friends on the sidelines.

“Look behind you.”

The merrow's brows drew together. Then she turned around and went stiff in shock.

The crowd laughed again.

Amariel glanced over her shoulder at Ven, who smiled at her. She smiled in return, the toothy grin she usually tried to keep hidden.

Then she straightened her red pearl cap, dashed to the hippocampus, and threw her arms around his neck.

At the throne platform, the Sea Queen was laughing along with the crowd, but the king wore a serious expression. He turned to the hippocampus reeve and gestured. Even across the Festival grounds, Ven knew he was telling the reeve to allow the late entry into the race.

“Better get to the starting line,” he advised the merrow, who was happily hugging the hippocampus. “You don't want the race to begin without you.”

“Right.” Amariel gave the giant sea horse one last pat, then swung herself up onto his back.

The pudgy creature bobbed almost to the seafloor.

The Festival ground exploded with merriment.

Amariel patted the blue-green beast, then turned him gently toward the starting line. The hippocampus curled his spiral tail and chugged off with great effort, like an old, overloaded pony in the upworld.

“Well, at least she probably won't get thrown,” said Coreon.

“But she may get trampled,” said Char.