"It's really not that hard to do," Squish said. "You just need to keep your hands moving."

Isabella tried again, but the oranges only stayed in the air for a moment before slipping through her grasp and rolling across the floor.

"Ugh..." she said, pounding her heel against the floorboards. "Juggling is stupid, and people who do it are even stupider."

"Maybe you should start with something smaller," Squish suggested. He walked across the end table, picked up a grape, and carried it over.

"...Yeah, you might be right." Isabella flicked the grape away, picked Squish up by the collar of his shirt, and flung him towards the ceiling.

As he came back down, she caught him again, passed him over to her other hand, and flung him even higher.

"By golly, I think you got it!" the fool shouted as he tumbled through the air.

Isabella laughed and continued juggling him for a while until there was an abrupt rapping on the door. As she turned her head to look, she missed Squish and had to scoop him off the bed where he had landed. Almost instinctively, she cupped her hands over him, cleared her throat, and sat down on the bed.

"Enter," she said, leaning back on the mountain of pillows and closing her eyes tightly.

There was a short pause and then the door opened. Roxanne stood waiting on the other side and bowed her head at the sight of the queen.

"What is it, Black Knight?" Isabella asked, turning over. "Can't you see I am trying to rest?"

"I do not mean to disturb you, Your Highness, but Duchess May has requested an audience with you. I thought you should know."

Isabella sat up. "May? May is here?"

"Yes. She's on her way up the stairs as we speak." Roxanne's face remained as stiff as a dry corpse, but it was evident she had noticed the unusual alarm in the queen's voice by the way her eyebrows were raised. "You seem...preoccupied, milady. If you would like, I can send her away. Perhaps when you are feeling better...?"

"Don't be silly," Isabella said, sliding her legs off the side of the bed. She carefully tucked her hands into her lap. "I feel fine, Black Knight. What makes you think something is wrong?"

"Well, for one thing, it's four in the afternoon and you're still in your nightgown..."

"My wardrobe is of no concern of yours!"

"Of course not, milady. I would simply think it best to send the duchess on her way if you feel you are not well enough to entertain her company."

"Says the pale-faced vampire standing at my door, looking as sickly and miserable as ever." She lifted her nose. "If I wanted an opinion, Black Knight, I would give it to you. And my opinion is that I am fine."

"Very well. Then I shall send her in immediately."

Isabella jumped out of bed with her hands still pressed firmly against her waist. "No!"

"Your Highness...?"

"I need a moment to change my clothes!" Isabella bolted towards her oak armoire and began hastily removing her nightgown. She stopped when she noticed the Black Knight was still watching her. "I could use some privacy. Shut the door, you soot-colored oaf, and make sure you're on the other side of it at the time."

Roxanne bowed her head and did as she was commanded.

Isabella breathed more easily when she was gone. Letting go of her nightgown, she turned away from the armoire and looked around the room.

"Mmf mmf mmmf mff. Mmf mmmf mff?"

Isabella glanced down. "What?"

"Mmmf mff mff."

"Ugh, learn to speak clearly." Isabella opened her hands. Inside, she found Squish curled into a ball and nearly crushed to death. "Now, what are you trying to say?"

"I was just remarking on how strong your grip was," he said weakly, but with a grin still on his face.

"Shut up. We have to hide you."

"Oh, a game?" Squish stood up on her palm. "I do love games, Isabella."

"Yeah. So does May."

"May?"

"Shut up already," Isabella said. She moved over to the mirror next to her bed and tossed Squish into the open jewelry box on top of her dresser. She snapped it shut and turned around just as the door to her bedchamber opened.

"May!" Isabella exclaimed, spreading her arms. "It's so good to see you. Welcome!"

"Isabella... It's so good to see you too. All of you." The duchess put a hand over her brow. "...Really, what the hell? Are clothes too far beneath you now?"

Isabella looked confused and then realized she was standing in her undergarments. Turning as scarlet as the lace pillows on her bed, she walked back towards to the armoire and slipped into a teal-colored robe that was waiting on the hook.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she said.

"...You are so very strange, Isabella," May said, closing the door behind her. "I wonder who you get that from."

"Well, naturally, it wasn't my fault. Roxanne was supposed to stall you until I slipped into something more formal."

"Oh, Roxanne... That must have been the giant sardine can that was barking at me on the way in."

Isabella smiled. "You really don't take orders from anybody, do you?"

May didn't answer. Instead, she wandered around the room, with one hand behind her back, and studied the royal decor that lined the walls. There were drapes made of the finest silks in the lands and golden frames to over a dozen magnificent paintings—nearly all of which featured stylized images of Queen Isabella herself. In fact, the only painting that featured the face of someone other than Isabella was a small canvas hanging over the bed. It was of both Isabella and Fallon and had been painted some many years ago, for they both looked much younger in the portrait than today. The red oils that colored the ribbons in Fallon's hair were beginning to fade and wash into her tresses, but Isabella had always kept the painting in a special place in her bedchamber.

May ran a finger across the mantle of the fireplace, poking at each priceless artifact that she saw, and stopped when she got to a diamond-encrusted vase that was being used as a centerpiece. She picked it up, rather loosely in her hands, and rolled it over, watching the jewels glitter and wink like stars on a cloudless night.

"You really eat this stuff up, don't you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

May put the vase back. "You always did enjoy the life of a noble. Do all these beautiful things really make you happy?"

Isabella tied the waistband of her robe.

"You sound bored," she said "What's wrong, May? Is life in Oceanside beginning to get dull?"

"Oh, no. Life is grand. I'm having adventures and seeing some really amazing things." She looked down at the carpet and grinned. "In fact, I just got back from seeing the circus."

"Really? The circus? I was recently told a story about a circus from...a...uh...person...who...tells stories..."

"You mean a storyteller?"

"Yes. That's the one." Isabella moved over to the couch, sat down, and began pouring two cups of tea. "So, tell me about the circus. Was it spectacular? I heard it's spectacular."

May shrugged.

"The show was good, but the food was rather bland," she said. She smiled to herself and traced a finger around her lips. "Still, I think you would like it."

"Oh, I'd love to see the circus, but my duties require me to be here at all times. Such is the life of a queen."

"You really take this life as a queen seriously..."

"Of course. I was born to be one."

"Yes, so I know..." May dropped down on the couch next to Isabella and folded one leg over the other. "That's actually what I came to see you about."

"Oh?"

"Yes. My sources tell me there's been some...trouble brewing with our friends in Kaligar."

Isabella offered her a cup of tea. "It's nothing I couldn't handle."

"Oh, I am sure." May generously took the cup. "Still, that Erika is like a mosquito. She won't simply go away if you ask her. She'll keep coming back and draining you for more and more until she gets what she wants. I dare say I know her better than you, cousin."

"Well..." Isabella started to say, and then she turned to May, stopped, and nearly spilled her tea.

There, sitting comfortably on the top of May's head in a yoga pose, was Squish. He smiled and waved at Isabella when she finally noticed him.

"Well?" May echoed.

"Uh..." Isabella put her cup down on the table. "I didn't say anything."

"...Yeah, I know. I was waiting for you to—"

"Have you seen my new necklace yet?"

Isabella jumped up, hurried over to the other side of the couch, and snatched Squish out of May's hair before she could turn around. Closing her fingers around him, Isabella continued over to the dresser and picked up the jewelry box. It was still closed.

She opened it. There was nothing inside.

"I don't even want to know how you did that," she whispered into her hand before stuffing Squish back into the jewelry box. He made no attempts to move as she snapped the lid shut again, grabbed a heart-shaped key from the top of the dresser, and locked it.

She set it back down and picked up a pearl necklace that she brought back over to May.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, handing the trinket over to the duchess.

May took it after some hesitation.

"...I gave you this," she said. "Years ago."

"Oh." Isabella retook her seat. "You did?"

"Yes... These are pearls from Atlantis. You know, the trade route that I own..."

"Oh, I had completely forgotten about that."

May laid the pearls on the table.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. "You're acting awfully strange today."

"Why does everybody keep saying that? Everything is fine. I'm fine." She put her hands in her lap and leaned back, letting out a deep exhale. "Are you fine?"

"...You know, just because she's dead doesn't mean you need to start acting like Olivia. I kinda like having at least one cousin who is normal."

"You don't need to compare me to her."

"I'm not. I wouldn't insult you like that."

"Good. Because... I am nothing like Olivia." Isabella fidgeted with her hair. "I mean, she actually carried around that disgusting man with her wherever she went... Can you believe that? What nonsense. Who does that?"

"Strange people, apparently..." May said, putting the cup of tea to her lips. She took a small sip, keeping her eyes on Isabella the whole time.

Isabella started to relax, until she glanced down and noticed two small hands grab onto the rim of May's cup, and then Squish's head popped between them. He shook his damp hair and spat out a mouthful of tea as May lowered the cup to her chest. She apparently didn't notice the brown stain he had left on her shimmering yellow dress.

"Anyway, as I was saying..." May began. "My sources tell me that Erika continues to send requests for Ellewyn's aid, despite your firm refusal to get involved. Now, while I support your decision to separate ourselves from their affairs, I don't think Kaligar is yet ready to accept your stance in the matter. Swamp people are a little boneheaded that way. That is why I propose we—"

"Let me get you some more tea," Isabella interrupted, trying to take the cup from May's hand. Her attempt failed, however, and she only managed to knock the cup over. The tea spilled into May's lap and she jumped up, causing Squish to fall down, bounce off her skirt, and land safely inside Isabella's cupped hands.

She quickly hid him from sight—by pressing him to the couch cushion and sitting on him.

"...Isabella..." May hissed, wiping the remnants of the liquid from her dress. "You're obviously distracted right now, so I'm going to say this very plainly. We need to send a message to Kaligar. With your permission, I would like to take a small group of soldiers into Masiela and knock some sense into Erika. It will be a peaceful mission on the whole, but we need to make sure that she understands Ellewyn has no intention of being the shield to a kingdom of heathens and farmers too frightened to fight for themselves."

"I didn't realize you had taken up a sudden interest in diplomacy," the queen said.

"I'm just looking out for your best interest."

"Yes, a lot of people seem to be doing that as of late..." Isabella shifted awkwardly in her seat. "But don't concern yourself with Kaligar. Fallon is down there as we speak. If any political ramifications arise from Erika's constant whining and moaning, Fallon will attend to them as she sees fit. I trust her wholeheartedly."

May did not look pleased as she stepped closer to Isabella.

"...Your Highness," she said. "You place too much trust in a mere courier. While I can appreciate Fallon's ability to wield a sword and carry out your duties here at the castle, I should not need to remind you that she has only seen this kingdom through times of peace. Fallon has never fought in a battle, never seen a war with her eyes. She is not prepared for such a thing, and she will be the first to die if you put her on the front lines. For her sake, I suggest you pull her out of Kaligar immediately and let me and my soldiers go in. We will get Erika under control."

"Calm down, May. She's hardly there on official business, and she'll be back soon enough." Isabella casually slid her hands out from under her legs. "Besides, I find Erika's begging humorous. I've finally found a way to make use of her stubbornness."

"There's more to being a queen than amusing yourself."

"How would you know?"

May's face coiled into a scowl and headed for the door. As she did, Isabella watched her and saw Squish stick his head out from the back of May's dress and wave at her.

With a silent gasp, Isabella jumped up and checked the spot where she had been sitting. There was nothing but an imprint that slowly inflated back to normal before her eyes.

"...I came here for your permission to carry out a necessary duty," May said, turning around. For the time being, the fool disappeared again. "I did this out of respect for you and your family. Whether or not you're willing to give me consent doesn't matter to me. I will do what has to be done. I always get my way, Isabella, and you know that."

Isabella crinkled her nose in disgust, but there was a look of worry in her eyes.

"Well, next time you invite yourself into my castle, you might find yourself waiting downstairs with the rest of the peasants," she said, but her threat was weak and off-key. She mostly just stood there, huffing and stomping her feet in place.

"Don't assume I'll be coming back until after I get what I want." May opened the door with her back still turned to the wall. "By the way, Bellaboo... I don't know when it became customary for you to allow men in your bedchamber, but if I ever catch that little shit climbing in my hair or swimming in my tea again, I will skin him alive and use his pelt to make a hat for one of the butterflies in my collection. Capische?"

Isabella said nothing. She only stared and chewed on the bottom of her lip as May slammed the door, causing the portraits in the room to rattle against the wall.

"You stupid, stupid fool..." the queen finally muttered.

"Me or the clown in the yellow dress with brown polka-dot stains all over it?"

Isabella's eyes dropped to her shoulder, where Squish was sitting, as calm as a frog on a lily pad, on the fabric of her robe.

"That was a fun game," he asked. "She's a very good seeker, isn't she? Or perhaps I'm not a very good hider. Which do you think, Isabella?"

"How did you...?" The queen looked dumbfounded until she snatched Squish up in her fist and thumped him with her forefinger and thumb. "...You irk me, fool. You truly do." Before he could speak again, she cupped a hand over his head, fell back on the bed, and released a long, drawn-out sigh.

Somewhere in that sigh, between all the annoyance and irritation, was a simple, momentary, barely detectable air of relief.

-------------------------

Most parts of Atlantis never saw nighttime. Even when the sun from the surface world had set and the waters of the Tethys Sea were as dark as a squid's black ink, this underwater utopia remained bathed in perpetual light. Great crystalline spheres that hung from the apex of each dome and looked down like vigilant eyes of glass made sure of this. The light from these fixtures radiated golden threads of light that draped themselves over the myriad structures reaching out from the water's surface to grace the skylines of each cavern.

Below the waterline, the light refracted all the way to the seafloor so that, even submerged, an onlooker could always witness the marvels of this city through a lens of shimmering twilight. The beautiful rays were made even more magnificent as they scattered across great white marble friezes and crystal mosaics which adorned the undersides of the curving, vaulted ceilings.

That is not to say the mermaids did not recognize the difference between day and night. They did, as should be expected, for many mermaids spent much of their time in the surface world for one reason or another. They simply had no reason to acknowledge this difference. They were creatures bred for the sea, granted life by the divine Goddess of Light, Dai Celesta. It was in Her honor that they chose a life of eternal radiance. This was Her gift to them, and their gift in return to Her.

However, the other residents of Atlantis—the men and the pygmies—were transplants from a world where they had once lived under a familiar pattern of day and night. The mermaids understood this. In their benevolent wisdom, the mermaids knew the men and pygmies needed the cycle of light and dark as much as they needed the air to breathe. To deprive these creatures of this crucial cycle was to invite widespread madness, a most unnecessary addition to the tortures already placed upon them by having been born so small, so insignificant, in the eyes of the Goddess.

And so, one of the domes was a world apart from the rest. There, in the dome of men and pygmies, the great crystal in the sky would shed its light from brightest day to moonlit night, and every hue of dawn and dusk in between. Its one limitation, however, was that it could not duplicate the meeting of the horizon, nor the exchange of the sun and moon, but it seemed the denizens inside could live with this small change, so long as the cycle of light continued.

The sky above Little Penee—for that is what the men had named their dome, the village in which they lived—had none of the grandeur of the rest of Atlantis, but it was not completely without feature. Scattered randomly throughout the drab, gray stone were tiny fragments of these magical glowing crystals, simulating a twinkling starlit sky to go with the silver light of the full moon, always holding center stage.

Tonight was no different than usual, save for a dark-haired man and a freckle-nosed pygmy, who were perched on the roof of a vacant building near the docks, looking out over the village. They had been quietly sitting there for a while, but a sudden restlessness in the waves below began to spark a conversation.

"...The pearl pods are ready," the man said. "We just have to get them over to the shipping bin before the next shipment leaves."

The pygmy smiled.

"That's good news," she said.

"...You're okay with this, aren't you?"

"Huh?" The pygmy stared at him, as if she had been caught by surprise. "Oh, yeah... Yeah. Of course. I mean, we hate it here. Don't we?"

The man shrugged.

"Well, I can't say I like waking up every morning and wondering if I'll be sleeping in a mermaid's belly by nightfall," he said. "But, I suppose, being here has helped me to forget the real world, so it can't be all bad."

"Yeah. The real world..." Her voice trailed off. "I can't believe it's already been three years. You lose track of time in this place."

"Fay..."

"Yeah?"

"There's still something we need to do before we leave."

The pygmy's lips tightened.

"I hope you're not referring to Gravy Bones' treasure," she said. When he made no attempt to confirm or deny her suspicion, she frowned. "...Malkav, you can't be serious. After all we've been through... You really want to risk everything for a few trinkets of gold?"

"I'm not concerned about the gold."

"Yeah, yeah... You just want your precious scarab piece." The pygmy slapped the back of his head. "Get over it already. We aren't meant to save the world. If there's one thing you should've learned in all your time with me, it's that we're rogues—not heroes."

"That's right," he said. "We are rogues. And, as rogues, isn't it our job to seek out treasure, no matter what danger faces us?"

"Well, the fact that I, of all people, would be perfectly content in leaving Gravy Bones' treasure untouched should give you some idea of the magnitude of danger that awaits us if we go ahead with your plan." Something seemed to dawn upon her and she cocked her head to the side. "Wait... What is your plan anyway? We aren't even sure where to look for the Scarab of Water."

"We have a good idea."

"I don't think breaking into Queen Marisette's throne room is a 'good idea' at all. I'm not even sure I understand your reasoning for it being there..."

"The mermaids are full of themselves. Gravy Bones' treasure signifies a great level of domination over another person... They're not going to hide it. Queen Marisette is going to want it to be displayed somewhere she can see it every day, as a reminder for how 'great' she and her people are. Besides..." Malkav reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out a strange necklace with an oddly-shaped bauble attached to it. The bauble appeared to be the bottom half of a scarab, but it glowed a bright shade of green as he tapped his finger along the edge. "I've been listening to the Scarab of Earth for a while now. It talks to me in my sleep, and it says it knows the location of the others pieces. It can lead them to us."

"It...talks to you?"

"Well, not in actual words, like you and I are speaking now, but... But I can feel the presence of the Scarab of Water. It's here—in Atlantis—waiting to be found."

"Perhaps. But I don't think the mermaids are going to let us have a tour around the city to look for it. They haven't been too open to that request in the past."

He flashed a sly grin and released the necklace from his grip. Fayrelin glanced down to watch it fall and couldn't help but notice Malkav's chest sticking out through the stretched neckline of his shirt. Since when had he become anything but scrawny?

"No," he said, tucking the necklace away, "but we could take our time to look around if all of the mermaids were somewhere else."

Fayrelin's eyes returned to his face.

"Like where?" she asked.

"Like at the opera house, during their next concert. There's one happening just a few days from now, and all of the mermaids will be there. We'd have the rest of Atlantis to ourselves."

"If we could get out from Little Penee."

"And why should that be so hard?"

"Because we're trapped in a glass dome and surrounded by water?"

"But the mermaids get in and out."

"Oh, I didn't realize either of us were mermaids. Did you suddenly grow gills and a tail? Because I sure didn't."

Malkav slid an arm around her neck.

"You let me worry about that," he said. "Once we're past the wall, we can climb into the aqueduct system that connects all the domes of Atlantis. From there, we just let the Scarab of Earth lead us to Gravy Bones' treasure."

"And what if we've been right all along and the treasure is actually in Queen Marisette's throne room?"

"So what? The room will be empty. Marisette will be watching the concert, along with everybody else."

"But her throne room is connected to the opera house. You know that. And every mermaid in Atlantis will be there, like you said..."

"In case you haven't noticed, we're quite a bit smaller than the mermaids... And we're rogues. We can easily sneak past them without them knowing we're there."

Despite his confidence in every counter-argument, Fayrelin did not look reassured.

"...You do realize what goes on during one of those concerts, don't you?" she asked.

Malkav shrugged and chucked a pebble off the roof.

"A bunch of singing and bad acting, I imagine," he said. "Not much different than an opera on the surface world."

"Have you ever heard a mermaid sing before?"

"No, but I've heard them whistle at the pearl farms."

Fayrelin sighed.

"...Nevermind," she said.

"What?"

"Nothing. I could be totally wrong. It's only a myth."

"What's a myth?"

"Forget it."

"No. I want to know."

Fayrelin shifted around uneasily.

"Okay..." she said. "I grew up on the sea. I've heard many tales of the mermaids, from Blackthorn and...some more reliable people... I didn't know they were all true until we arrived here. But all the tales say that when a mermaid sings, her voice is so beautiful that any man who hears it falls under her spell and is lured towards his doom. In fact, singing is supposed one of the earliest techniques the mermaids developed to catch their prey."

"Well, that does sound like something they would do," Malkav said. "But I don't know how that affects me. I hate mermaids more than anything in this world, and nothing is going to change that. Especially not their singing. The mermaids suck, Fay. They just suck."

"But I worry, Malkav... You're a man."

"One of my many fine qualities."

"And so are Jargon and Blackthorn and Exthame. And...Adam, I think..."

"What's your point?"

"Well... If the myths are true, you won't be able to resist their singing, no matter how much you hate the mermaids." She paused for a moment. "Maybe it's better if I steal the Scarab of Water."

"No."

"But—"

"You're not going into the opera house alone, Fay. I forbid it."

"Why? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you. I just don't trust those crazy women who have tails instead of legs and go around eating my friends."

"But the mermaids will take it easier on me if I get caught."

"We're not going to get caught."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because we're good at what we—"

"A-ha!" came a drunken, slurred voice from below. "Caught you, you stinky, slippery, troublesome fish!"

Malkav and Fayrelin looked down to see Zana, more drunk than ever before, stumbling across the street on legs about as sturdy as jelly. She had a beer bottle in her hand and there was a trail of booze leading to a canoe that had run ashore. When she reached the building they were on, she lifted her arm and pointed at them with the neck of the bottle in her hand. The last of the alcohol trickled out and pooled at her feet.

"You are in a lot of trouble," she yelled, clawing at the wall of the structure with her free hand, as if she was making a half-assed attempt to climb up after them. It never seemed to register in her mind that there was a ladder leaning against the wall only a few feet away.

"I guess we're not that good," Malkav said, and Fayrelin giggled.

"You're supposed t'be at the pearl farms," Zana said. She finally found the ladder and began shaking it uncontrollably. "Get down here!"

"I think you should come up here," Malkav said.

Zana made it to the third rung before she landed on her back.

She tried it a second time and didn't even get that far, as the entire ladder tipped over and landed on top of her. Malkav and Fayrelin barreled over in laughter as Zana squirmed out from under the ladder and began cursing at them from the ground.

"We probably should get out of here," Fayrelin said. "She's likely to wake up the whole village."

Malkav listened to Zana scream for a little while longer and then ducked as she threw her beer bottle at him. It soared over his head and shattered on the rooftop behind him.

"I suppose you're right," he said.

They stood up, waved goodbye to Zana, and jumped off the back of the roof hand-in-hand.

"This way," Malkav said, pointing down a dark alley.

Fayrelin followed him, but it didn't take Zana long to realize they were no longer on the roof. Hobbling around to the back of the building, she saw Fayrelin's ponytail disappear around a corner and gave chase.

"Get back here!" she demanded.

Malkav and Fayrelin looked over their shoulders and laughed to see Zana trying to keep up. She was zigzagging through the alley, bumping into walls and trash cans, and fell more than once trying to climb over the fence that Malkav and Fayrelin were easily able to roll underneath.

When they were back on the open street, Malkav unhooked a clothesline from a nearby window and handed Fayrelin the other end. They knelt on opposite sides of entrance to the alley, holding the clothesline to the ground, and then pulled it taut when Zana came stumbling through. Before she knew what was happening, Zana was doing a faceplant into the street.

"Who did that!?" she screamed. She turned around to see, but all she saw was a blanket being thrown in her face.

Angrily, she crawled out from under the blanket and resumed the chase.

"I'm reporting you both to the mermaids," she shouted. "You're both dead. Dead—you hear me!?"

"I think everybody can hear her by now," Malkav said.

Fayrelin laughed and stopped for a moment to taunt their pursuer.

"Zana kisses fish!" she said, cupping her hands over her mouth for maximum volume.

"That is a lie," Zana cried, still shuffling towards them. Her voice practically oozed with the alcohol that was on her breath. "That is a lie and a half. I do not kiss fish, nor will I ever."

"Come on," Malkav said, taking Fayrelin's hand and leading her through the center of Little Penee. Even though most of the village was asleep, some of the more curious folks got out of bed and opened their windows to see what was making all the ruckus outside. When they saw what it was, they laughed and woke up everyone they knew.

"Zana is drunk again," were the words on their lips. "Come quickly, everybody. That stupid fool—when will she ever learn?"

Before long, the whole village was awake and had heard about Zana's drunken rampage through town. It spread so quickly that a few of the men on the other side of town were waiting at their windows with a cold beer in hand when Zana passed through. They cheered on Malkav and Fayrelin and guffawed at every foul-mouthed curse that came out of Zana's lips.

The pygmies were the only ones who chose not to partake in this unintended display of public humiliation. When they heard Zana shouting from three blocks away, they got up, closed the windows of their exotic suites on the rich side of town, and pulled the curtains shut.

"Not again," they said.

The chase continued for a while longer, but Malkav and Fayrelin soon lost sight of Zana. It hadn't been their intention—for they were enjoying this chase just as much as the spectators in the balconies above—but Zana had taken a wrong turn. Her mind was so far gone that she had mistaken a poster of two harlots for Malkav and Fayrelin. It wasn't until she reached the poster and was able to rip it from the wall that she realized they were just ink scribbles on a worn piece of parchment.

"Where are you, you dumb fish?" she muttered.

She wasn't aware of how quiet it had become. There were no more mocking voices, no men pointing at her and laughing or making bets on whether she would wind up facedown or faceup in the street tonight.

In fact, there was nobody around. In her own drunkenness, Zana had inadvertently wandered into a very bad part of town.

She continued on blithely, ignoring obvious signs that this neighborhood didn't welcome her kind. Graffiti stained the crumbling, ancient stone walls. If she could read, the words "PYGMIES SUCK MUD" were staring her in the face. But her eyes were ahead, following the reach of these walls to a narrow causeway that crossed a strip of turgid water. Warning bells rang in the back of her head, but she ignored them, intent on pursuing her quarry at all costs.

She shuffled across the causeway, miraculously avoiding a stumble into the low guardwalls which would have done little to stop her from a headlong plunge into the brackish river below.

Only when the open space of the river gave way and the foreboding walls closed around her again did the bells finally become loud enough to be heard through the fog of booze. She was no longer in the easygoing residential districts with their ziggurat towers resembling cheerful, multi-tiered wedding cakes. Somehow, she had lost her way and stumbled into the waterfront district of Little Penee. Only a few wan lights flickered here and there in the deep shadows between these featureless, gray structures.

The twinkling of the false night sky could only be seen as a few bands overhead, offering no reassurance against the press of the monoliths now surrounding her. This was not a good place for anyone to be alone at night—let alone a pygmy—and definitely not a pygmy who spent so much time typifying all the reasons why pygmies were at best shunned and at worst despised by the majority of the men of Little Penee.

She pushed aside her anger of the rogues who had managed to give her the slip long enough to trace her steps through a mental map and realized she had crossed onto the narrows formed by what used to be a river neatly dividing sections of ancient Atlantis.

The Atlanteans had a name for this island, as well as a purpose for all the unusually large buildings covering it, but both of these had been lost to time. Today, the unfortunate residents of Little Penee made use of what was left for warehousing and meatpacking industries. That was its purpose. Its name, given it by those who lived here and rarely whispered outside these walls unless out of fear, was Kingsbridge. Docks in general were not known for harboring the better parts of society, but Kingsbridge was by far the worst of the warehouse districts in Little Penee. The smell alone should've given that away.

Zana stopped to look around. The drunken spirals of graffiti were spinning like spiderwebs on the wall, but their message was clear. This was somebody's turf, and she knew she shouldn't be here. Still, she had come this far. No reason to give up just yet. Besides, she told herself, no one would dare cross a pygmy and risk the wrath of the mermaids. No matter how tough these men thought they were, they all knew who really ran things.

Armed with this burst of self-confidence, she continued further into the darkness.

As she rounded a corner—one chosen completely at random—she finally encountered another living soul in the grip of these foul streets.

"Hey you," she barked. "Yeah, you—fish. You seen a couple'a fishy fish around here?"

The stranger merely continued his lackadaisical lean against a large metal trash bin, watching her without a word.

"One of 'em is a fish, like you, you see. The other is a pygmy. A backstabbing traitor of a pygmy. Might as well be a fish."

Pride never failed Zana, even at her worst. The deeper recesses of her mind thought it would be a good idea to tack on a title of at least moderate respect for this denizen of dangerous dens, but she couldn't resist insulting him with her favorite slur, even as she knew he wasn't likely someone to piss off.

Again, no response.

Zana scowled at the strange man, decided he wasn't worth the effort of pointing out how useless he was, and continued past him without further comment.

It was only then that he responded with a single word. "Pig."

Zana froze in midstep, almost toppling over as the upper half of her body finally figured out what the lower half was doing.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me," the man repeated. "Pig."

Zana wheeled around to face the stranger, but the spin didn't end when her body stopped and she found herself seeing double.

"Listen here," she said, hiccuping. "D'you...know who I am?"

She wobbled a bit and finally got her bearings, only to see her vision clear up and reveal...two men.

She shook her head and scrunched her eyes, waiting for the illusion to drop. When she opened them again, the stranger had doubled again. Now there were four of them. And when she looked closer, they didn't even look like the same person at all.

The men stepped out into the street and circled Zana, eyeballing her from head to toe.

"Ah, so it's a school of fish, is it?" Zana muttered. The alcohol seemed to give her superhuman courage. "Except none of you have probably had a day of school in your lives."

"Well, boys," one of the men sneered. "It looks like a little piggy has wandered into our slaughter yard." He seized Zana by the wrist and pulled her closer.

"Get your grubby hands offa me," Zana snapped. "I could have you all served as breakfast for the mermaids tomorrow morning."

The man's face was firm and so was his hold on Zana's wrist as he twisted her forearm around and pinned her against the wall.

"You'll be lucky to even see tomorrow," he breathed into her ear. "You might run the show at the pearl farms, but these streets belong to me and my men. This is Bruzzeli's turf."

Zana spoke into the wall. "I'm going to count to three. If you don't release me by then, I'll see to it that every last one'a you ends up in a mermaid's belly. One..."

"Maybe you didn't hear me. We don't take orders from pigs."

"Two..."

"She's drunk, boss," one of Bruzzeli's men said. He pulled a shank from under his sleeve and stepped forward. "Let's just slit her throat and be done with it."

"Seven..."

"Not yet," Bruzzeli said. He moved his arm and pressed Zana's face against the wall with the back of his elbow. "This piggy was chasing a good friend of mine and I want to know why. What did you want with Malkav?"

"Sixteen..." Zana's voice was muffled by the wall.

"She's not going to talk," the man with the shank said. "Let me do her, boss. I want to hear her squeal."

"She'll talk," Bruzzeli said. He gave Zana one final push into the wall and stepped back.

"Three!" Zana cried, swinging her arm around. She missed, but Bruzzeli decked her across the face so hard that a trail of blood and teeth followed her to the ground.

Zana only looked momentarily dazed as she tried to crawl to her feet.

"...You're...so dead..." she breathed, but Bruzzeli knocked her back down with the back of his heel.

"I changed my mind," he said, turning around and moving towards the rest of the gang, who had formed a circle around them. "You don't have to talk." He passed by the man with the shank and stood next to the biggest, meanest, and ugliest man in all of Atlantis.

"...Break her kneecaps," Bruzzeli said, patting the brute on the shoulder. "If she still doesn't talk, break her hip. If that doesn't work, break her neck and dump her body in the river. The mermaids can have her."

The brute grinned, removed his coat one sleeve at a time, and advanced towards Zana, who was dazed and sprawled out against the wall like a wounded animal with nowhere to run.

"Wait..." she groaned. She dug her fingernails into the wall and tried to stand up.

The brute stopped in his tracks.

"What are you doing?" Bruzzeli asked.

"She said to wait," the thug answered.

Bruzzeli slapped his forehead.

"You don't take orders from her, numbskull!" he snapped. "You obey me."

"Oh, yeah..." The brute bent down, grabbed Zana by the neck, and lifted her to eye-level. Her feet dangled loosely in the air and she was struggling just to breathe.

"...Wait."

This time, it was Bruzzeli who had spoken.

"'Wait'!?" the brute growled. "Wait, wait wait. All I do is wait."

"Put her down," Bruzzeli commanded. "Now."

The brute dropped Zana and then proceeded to take his anger out on a nearby trash can. Zana watched him smash it into a tin plate and shuddered to think that was almost her body. She shuddered even more when Bruzzeli snatched her by the back of the head and forced her to look into his eyes.

"I don't know what you want with Malkav, but me and the kid go back a long way," he said, looking her over like a butcher looks over a slab of meat before cutting into it. As he did, he studied the beads of alcohol and sweat dripping from Zana's brow and grinned. "He even told me you might go snooping into our business, and here you are. You're a cancer on our lives, pig. I think it would be in the best interest of everybody if you were to suddenly disappear from this city and never return."

He held out his palm and one of his men put a shank in it.

Zana's heart was throbbing. Her chest ached. She was bloody and drunk and soaked in a horrible mixture of sweat and dirt, but she was fully aware of the danger she was in. Those warning bells were deafening. Why did she come here? Why didn't she turn back when she had the chance? It was those damn fish. They made her do this.

As Bruzzeli tightened his grip on the makeshift weapon, Zana leaned her head against the wall. Would it be over quick, she wondered. Would she feel anything? Her veins were pumped so full of alcohol right now that she doubted she could feel anything.

That was good. That relaxed her a little.

Still, she would've liked to see the mermaids gobble up those fishes. Maybe they would even get eaten alive. Oh, yes. Alive was good. Seeing them flop around on a plate. Hearing their screams as they digest. That would be...the perfect ending for them.

She laughed at the idea. Two more dead fishes. Order up.

"Hey, Bruzzeli." A sudden raspy voice interrupted her thoughts. "Since when did it become customary for your boys to rough up my girl?" A pair of hands as filthy and strong as an ass came down and picked up Zana. "That's my job."

Bruzzeli grimaced at the newcomer.

"...Wanker," he said, standing up straight. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I was just having a good time riding my pig," the ass said, grabbing a thick handful of Zana's blonde locks and rubbing them under his nose. "We were having all sorts of fun. Then I greased her up and she got away from me. She's slippery like that."

Bruzzeli's boys snickered.

"Is that so?" Bruzzeli asked, obviously not convinced. He pointed the shank at Zana. "You with this guy, pig?"

Zana swallowed. That weapon was dangerously close to her throat.

"...Y-yes," she said. Her breath reeked of booze.

"You see?" Wanker said. He slid his hands down Zana's pants and pinched her cheeks. "Why don't you show them what you were doing to me before you ran away? You know how much I love an audience."

Zana's face became flush with red.

"I...don't really feel comfortable with that..." she said.

"Come on, pig," he said. "Show them your dance."

Zana started shaking her hips nervously, but she threw up a little in her mouth when Wanker moved his cold hands further down her pants and held on.

She continued doing this for a while, until the scowl on Bruzzeli's face disappeared and he erupted into laughter.

"Okay, okay," he said, slipping the shank into his back pocket. "I guess I had you figured wrong, pig." Even though he was clearly referring to Zana, he wasn't looking at her, like she had suddenly become a lesser creature and wasn't even worthy of making eye contact.

She didn't care. Her eyes were on the street.

"Wanker, you should learn to keep your pigs on a shorter leash," Bruzzeli said. "You don't want them wandering off where they don't belong."

"It won't happen again, boss man," Wanker said. He removed his hands from Zana's pants and smacked her on the rump. "Come on, pig... Let's get you home."

Zana turned her back, dejected, and Bruzzeli and his men watched them go.

"...What the hell were you thinking?" one of the thugs asked. "We could've whacked them both."

"Yeah, I don't like Wanker thinking he can tread on our turf any more than the pigs can," another piped in. "He needs to learn his place."

Bruzzeli folded his arms across his chest, silently, and watched Zana jump every time Wanker felt her up.

"...No," he said. "Those two deserve each other." When Zana and Wanker had reached the causeway, he chuckled to himself, turned on his heels, and started across the street. "...Time to go, boys. Nothing more to see here."

"You gonna just let them walk away like that, boss?"

"Shaddup. My table at the Surf 'n Turf is ready."

The others shrugged and followed him.

Meanwhile, after a minute of awkwardly stumbling down the street with Wanker's hand up her shirt, Zana had mustered up the courage to look over her shoulder. She did so and was relieved by what she saw.

"...They're gone," she said, moving out from under Wanker's grip. "Now, get away from me."

"I just saved your life," the pervert said. "In some cultures, that would mean you now belong to me."

"Take a culture of this," Zana said. She reared back and spit in his face.

Wanker didn't react right away. If anything, he only seemed to grin. Then he reached up and slid a slow finger across his cheek, gathering up all the spit, and rolled it into a ball. When he was finished, he opened his mouth and wiped it across his tongue, back and forth, until it was gone. He even closed his lips around his finger for extra measure.

Zana stared at him in a mixture of disgust and horror.

"You think you're the first pig to do that?" he asked. "Sooner or later, all my pigs learn how." He moved closer and reached his arms out.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to take you home" he said, groping her behind.

"You don't even know where I live."

"We're not going to your place, pig..."

Zana's back hit the wall. The dizziness returned. A sudden heaving in her stomach caused Zana to lurch forward and she vomited all over the street. But it didn't stop there. She did this four or five times before she finally collapsed.

Wanker grinned and picked her up off the ground.

"...I don't feel so well..." the pygmy said, staring up at the sky. Her head dangled in Wanker's arms like a limp cabbage. As she faded into and out of consciousness, the dim light overhead began to swell and burned her eyes.

"Don't worry," Wanker said, putting one hand under her head and the other on her rear end, squeezing them both to get a tighter grip. "You're gonna feel amazing to me."

Zana didn't have the strength to struggle as Wanker carried her away. In fact, by the time they had crossed the causeway, she had already fainted.

-------------------------

Malkav and Fayrelin had doubled back a long time ago and found themselves on the shores of Little Penee. They ran across the sand, laughing, and ducked behind a large black rock to catch their breath.

"We're so dead if Zana remembers any of this," Fayrelin said.

"She won't," Malkav said. "She's so drunk right now that she won't remember her own name in the morning." He playfully pushed Fayrelin into the sand and dropped down next to her. "We should get chased by drunken louts more often."

"Yeah, Jargon and Blackthorn aren't nearly this much fun when they're drunk," Fayrelin laughed.

Malkav smiled, although part of his face was covered by his long, dark hair.

Reaching up, Fayrelin brushed it out of the way for him.

Even though it was night, there was a warm breeze blowing in from the sea. That was one good thing about Atlantis—the waters were never cold.

"Hey, look," Malkav said. He pushed back Fayrelin's hand and pointed out to the sea. A mermaid's tail could be seen breaching the crest of a distant wave. She rose out of the water, almost in slow motion, and she looked so peaceful, so serene, as she somersaulted through the air and dove back under at full extension. Her tail was the last thing to disappear, slapping the wave so gently that not a single droplet was displaced.

She appeared again, a while later, with a companion on either side. Together, they rode the swashing waves, while their scales glittered in the artificial moonlight.

"It's amazing how much different this place can feel sometimes," Fayrelin whispered. She wasn't really sure she had spoken aloud until Malkav looked at her.

"Almost makes you forget about the real world," he said.

They looked out again. If they squinted hard enough into the distance, the side of their dome prison somewhat resembled a horizon, like the one from the surface world above. They could almost forget this place. They could almost...feel like they were home.

"Malkav," Fayrelin said. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said to me...you know, before..."

He stared at her inquisitively.

"And I'll be damned if I understand why, but...I think I've fallen in love with you, too."

"Really? What took you so long?"

Fayrelin laughed so hard that it hurt and she laid her head on his shoulder. Together, they watched the mermaids play in the water from the shelter of their black rock. As the saline air filled her nostrils, Fayrelin took a deep breath and nuzzled her cheek deeper into Malkav's arm. He really was getting stronger. She wasn't just dreaming it. And this was somehow perfect.

In some strange, foreign, unsure way, this was perfect.