him pass to the stone.”
Ervys’s follower holds his ground, glancing around for support. No one else comes forward.
“Let him pass to the stone.” Saldowr’s voice is quieter now, but more penetrating. It makes me afraid, even though I’m not Saldowr’s target. Ervys’s follower turns and we see his face. He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He looks for backing from the ranks around Ervys, but no one stirs. Sullenly, he swims back to his fellows at the entrance.
“Ervys will choose his fight,” comments Faro.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“That boy wasn’t important enough. Ervys is waiting for something more.
For us, maybe. Perhaps he knows by now that we broke out of his Porth Cas. The gulls could have brought word to a follower close to the surface. Ervys will guess that we’ll come straight here.
The boy swims until he is above the Speaking Stone, then quickly and neatly he dives down in the sheer dive that no human can ever equal, touches the stone, and comes up to face the Mer. Immediately, without looking at one another, the Mer respond. A single word ripples around the chamber.
“Chosen … chosen … chosen … chosen …”
But not all the Mer speak. Many remain silent, arms folded, resisting. Ervys has his supporters on the benches too.
“This breaks our custom,” whispers Faro angrily. “We speak together or keep silent.”
I wonder who will speak for us. Even the Mer who support Saldowr may keep silent when we swim up from the stone.
Half-and-halfs,
Ervys calls us. We pollute Ingo with our human blood. How many of these Mer believe that? My stomach knots with tension. Before long, we’ll find out.
The boy has already gone. A girl approaches the stone, and then another. Each has their moment, but that moment passes so quickly that the line of waiting Mer never stops moving.
But even so,
I think,
it would take weeks for all the young Mer to come to the stone.
Surely every single Mer in our age group can’t make the same journey to the same chamber? How big is Ingo, anyway? Does its power stretch all the way around the world?
“Faro, are there other Assembly chambers?”
Faro looks at me for a long silent moment. At last he asks, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, surely all the Mer in the whole of Ingo can’t come here, into one chamber. The oceans are huge. There must be too many Mer, even in our age group. How big is Ingo?”
“You must speak to Saldowr,” he says haughtily. “Ingo is as it is.”
I almost smile, but stop myself. Conor nudges me.
“I only meant, does Ingo cover the whole world?”
“Of course it does. What else could there be? But perhaps there are other Assembly chambers,” he concedes.
The young Mer are still coming in a stream that appears endless. Saldowr’s cloak billows in the current that they make as they pass him. There is only one of him. I believe in Saldowr, of course I do, but—
“There are many of Ervys’s followers,” says Faro as if he has heard my thoughts.
“What?”
“Among those coming to the stone. Watch carefully as they pass Ervys.”
The next two candidates must be Saldowr’s followers because they make no sign as they pass Ervys. But then a girl in a bodice of dark-red woven weed enters the chamber. She looks to her left, where Ervys stands behind his men. Quickly she raises her left hand to her forehead and touches it with the knuckle of her index finger. Nothing more. Her hand drops and she swims forward. The gesture is so fleeting that I’d have missed it if Faro hadn’t told me to look out for a sign. She dives to touch the Stone, comes up to face the Mer and is greeted with the familiar word:
“Chosen…. chosen …”
“Elvira will come soon,” says Faro.
“How do you know?”
“She is in my thoughts. She wants to be with us but I have told her we are hidden. She will be chosen, and then she will wait for us outside the Assembly chamber.”
He sounds so confident.
“How can you be
Ervys’s follower holds his ground, glancing around for support. No one else comes forward.
“Let him pass to the stone.” Saldowr’s voice is quieter now, but more penetrating. It makes me afraid, even though I’m not Saldowr’s target. Ervys’s follower turns and we see his face. He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He looks for backing from the ranks around Ervys, but no one stirs. Sullenly, he swims back to his fellows at the entrance.
“Ervys will choose his fight,” comments Faro.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“That boy wasn’t important enough. Ervys is waiting for something more.
For us, maybe. Perhaps he knows by now that we broke out of his Porth Cas. The gulls could have brought word to a follower close to the surface. Ervys will guess that we’ll come straight here.
The boy swims until he is above the Speaking Stone, then quickly and neatly he dives down in the sheer dive that no human can ever equal, touches the stone, and comes up to face the Mer. Immediately, without looking at one another, the Mer respond. A single word ripples around the chamber.
“Chosen … chosen … chosen … chosen …”
But not all the Mer speak. Many remain silent, arms folded, resisting. Ervys has his supporters on the benches too.
“This breaks our custom,” whispers Faro angrily. “We speak together or keep silent.”
I wonder who will speak for us. Even the Mer who support Saldowr may keep silent when we swim up from the stone.
Half-and-halfs,
Ervys calls us. We pollute Ingo with our human blood. How many of these Mer believe that? My stomach knots with tension. Before long, we’ll find out.
The boy has already gone. A girl approaches the stone, and then another. Each has their moment, but that moment passes so quickly that the line of waiting Mer never stops moving.
But even so,
I think,
it would take weeks for all the young Mer to come to the stone.
Surely every single Mer in our age group can’t make the same journey to the same chamber? How big is Ingo, anyway? Does its power stretch all the way around the world?
“Faro, are there other Assembly chambers?”
Faro looks at me for a long silent moment. At last he asks, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, surely all the Mer in the whole of Ingo can’t come here, into one chamber. The oceans are huge. There must be too many Mer, even in our age group. How big is Ingo?”
“You must speak to Saldowr,” he says haughtily. “Ingo is as it is.”
I almost smile, but stop myself. Conor nudges me.
“I only meant, does Ingo cover the whole world?”
“Of course it does. What else could there be? But perhaps there are other Assembly chambers,” he concedes.
The young Mer are still coming in a stream that appears endless. Saldowr’s cloak billows in the current that they make as they pass him. There is only one of him. I believe in Saldowr, of course I do, but—
“There are many of Ervys’s followers,” says Faro as if he has heard my thoughts.
“What?”
“Among those coming to the stone. Watch carefully as they pass Ervys.”
The next two candidates must be Saldowr’s followers because they make no sign as they pass Ervys. But then a girl in a bodice of dark-red woven weed enters the chamber. She looks to her left, where Ervys stands behind his men. Quickly she raises her left hand to her forehead and touches it with the knuckle of her index finger. Nothing more. Her hand drops and she swims forward. The gesture is so fleeting that I’d have missed it if Faro hadn’t told me to look out for a sign. She dives to touch the Stone, comes up to face the Mer and is greeted with the familiar word:
“Chosen…. chosen …”
“Elvira will come soon,” says Faro.
“How do you know?”
“She is in my thoughts. She wants to be with us but I have told her we are hidden. She will be chosen, and then she will wait for us outside the Assembly chamber.”
He sounds so confident.
“How can you be
Similar Books
