I could also see now why he needed to be in an air pocket.
One thing you don't do underwater is juggle.
On a stage close to Neptune's viewing throne, three mermen performed feats of strength. One wrestled what looked like a massive eel, another fought off the lumbering advances of a brutally big giant, the third hefted an Everworld version of barbells over his head. The center shaft looked suspiciously like a large timber from our sunken boat. At either end of the timber was attached a plate piled with a variety of skulls.
"You will wait here," our guide said, stopping in front of the only unoccupied stage. "When Neptune commands it, you will perform."
The guy took off and we clambered soggily up onto the stage. All except Senna, who leaned against the structure, a little behind us.
Just then a watery roar came from the stands, a bellow or rage, no words, just out-of-control emotion.
Feet. Stamped them up and down in a child's version of an indian rain dance.
Pointed at the juggler, who stood frozen, trembling, one of the pots smashed at his feet. "You dropped one, you dropped one!" the god screamed, his face so red he looked like he was about to stroke out. "You're not supposed to drop one! Guards, kill him, kill him, then find me another juggler! No, let me, let me kill him!" Neptune's face broke into a wide grin. "I will do it!"
The juggler fell to his knees, just collapsed like a closed bellows, whimpered, brought his hands together in the popular gesture of supplication, of prayer. But he didn't offer a plea out loud, probably knew it didn't matter, his life was over, nothing he could say would reach Neptune. I wondered to what god the juggler was praying.
For a moment, it seemed nothing was happening. Neptune simply stared. But then the water began to form. A bubble of water around the man's legs, rising to his chest, up to his chin.
The man tried to run but the water bubble stayed with him.
He stretched up on his toes, trying desperately to keep his mouth above water. Neptune laughed delightedly, and the water level rose another inch.
Water was now spilling into the man's open into the man's open mouth. He gagged and spit and choked and Neptune let it go on, let it go on as the man tried jumping up to suck in a little air.
The juggler jumped, and every time he came down the water was higher. Higher. Now he could no longer jump. Now he could no longer reach the air. Now he strained, trying to force his head out the side of the bubble, but no good, the bubble moved with him.
He was drowning. Lungs filling. His face showed shock. He felt the water in his lungs, not the breathable water, the killing water. It was in his lungs, and he knew he was to die.
It wasn't quick. It seemed to go on forever.
I turned to look up at the reaction of the people in the stands. On the faces of humans, elves, even, I imagined, the Coo-Hatch — fear. A message received. On the faces of the mermen and mermaids, on Amphitrite and Triton — hysteria.
They shouted with laughter, pointed, slapped knees, wiped tears from their eyes. I turned back to the juggler. His face was bluish, his eyes seemed to bulge, his mouth worked like that of a fish just caught and thrown onto the floorboards of a rowboat.
When he was dead, the water evaporated. Neptune gestured for one of his mermen guards to haul the body away The god sat back well pleased with himself.
"I'll say it again, this guy is nuts," Christopher muttered. "I don't just mean like all the gods are nuts — this guy is a psycho."
"Persecution and murder as spectacle," Jalil murmured.
"All right," I said, shooting a glance at Senna, still leaning against the stage, her head in her hand, eyes closed. Safe enough. "Come on, what are we going to do for this maniac?
April, songs?"
April just stared at me blankly. We were all pretty much at a loss. "Christopher," I said, "can you think of something that will work for the Water Boy?"
Christopher shook his head. "I'll try, dude, but old Thorolf and his Viking posse were pussycats compared to this nutjob."
"Try, Christopher," April said. "I'll try to help you out if you get stuck. We all will."
Christopher shook his head. "Oh, yeah, that should help.
Well, here goes nothing." He cleared his throat, another strange thing to see or experience while breathing water, took a step forward, and began singing to the tune of "... Baby One More Time." Yes. The song by Britney Spears.
"O, mighty Neptune, as far as the gods do go you have the greatest power.
And mighty Neptune, we think all the world should know.
We'll shout it from the highest tower.
Glor-eee to the god of the sea, tell them all please to bow down and respect him, oh, because..."
Jalil closed his eyes. "It was nice knowing you, April, David.
We are chum. Fish food. Bait. History."
Chapter
XII
But Neptune, sick and childish Neptune, liked the song and demanded Christopher sing it again. And again. April joined in, hesitantly at first, but more aggressively when she saw Neptune smile and wink. None of us were above buying the god's favor, at least until he let us offstage.
And while we sang, me more mouthing the words than making any noise, I suddenly saw the sailor, the lone survivor of the shark attack, Merlin, walking slowly, slowly along the sidelines, Senna at his side. Damn it, I should have forced her up onstage when Neptune bellowed for a performance. Some weak, soft spot in me had decided to let her stay where she was, let her rest. Now I was losing her.
I couldn't break away, rush Merlin; Neptune would kill me for ruining his personal party. Senna wouldn't go with Merlin willingly; she was under his spell. It was clear after the attempted kidnapping in Egypt, after the display with the self-powered boat, now this disguise, his leading Senna away, that Merlin had regained all of his strength after the monumentally losing battle with Loki, after failing to keep Galahad alive.
But Merlin wasn't going to get far with Senna not if I could help it, and I would. Somehow. Think, David. Observe. The fact that they were moving so slowly, that they were walking so closely together, made me think maybe it was costing Merlin to keep Senna so completely under his thrall, especially while maintaining his own disguise.
I kept the wizard in my sight. And continued to play the performer. We segued to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" sung in rounds. Neptune tried to get the hang of the rounds, coming in at the end of the first line with the beginning of the first line, but obviously this proved too much of a creative or intellectual challenge for him. And gods don't like to look foolish.
"Enough!" the god bellowed. "Enough of the songs. They begin to bore me. I want the fool, what is his name? Let him come forward! I have decided I would like to hear some amusing tales. I have decided I am in the mood to laugh."
April shot me a worried look. I froze. I could pretend to sing.
I could pretend to dance. But being funny? That wasn't something I could do, not easily, anyway, not on command. I was no Dennis Miller, no Chris Rock, no Jerry Seinfeld.
"Life or death, David," Jalil whispered. "Think knork-knork jokes anything "
"Hey," Christopher hissed, "why don't you recite him that poem you wrote for English that time? It cracked me up."
The others were not helping. And not one of them said anything about Senna's being no longer with them. Was it a part of Merlin's magic? Or just that they didn't care?
"Fool! Speak!" Neptune roared.
Think think think, David, you idiot, think! And then, I came up with a way to save Senna, stop Merlin — no matter what Brigid had urged me to do — and protect my own sorry butt.
I stepped forward, stumbling a little, still unused to the water's resistence, the need for exaggerated motions.
"Mighty Neptune!" I cried. Did my voice sound high and squeaky to anyone else? "I am David, a great wizard, and I will entertain you with amazing feats of magic!"
Neptune stared at me for a moment and then — laughed.
; A deep laugh, from the belly. Not what I'd expected.
Tears ran down his face, and he continued to laugh and laugh and laugh, pointing at me now, poking the lackeys beside him, forcing them to join in his mockery of me. My face burned or felt like it did. He was humiliating me. I was letting him. I couldn't turn around to see how April, Jalil, Christopher were reacting, couldn't look at Senna, hoped for once that Merlin's magic was blinding her to what was happening. I was mortified.
But I was also angry. My blood raced. I wanted to slice Neptune's sneering, jeering head off his neck and I could do it, too — with Galahad's sword I could do anything.
"Hoo, oh, whoo." Neptune was trying to regain his composure, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, taking deep breaths.
"You... he-he." The god forced his face into an expression of mock solemnity and seriousness. "You don't look like a great wizard. He-ho. Ahem."
Easy, David. This is not about you, it's about the big lunatic; he'd embarrass, maim, kill anyone, even his own mother; it's about his needing to show power, to step on necks, not about you. Not an at ack on you. If you don't let it hurt, it won't.
I forced my face into a mask of theatrical dignity. My voice into a sort of pseudo-sophisticated, phony upper-class-British, AMC-classic-film tone.
"Mighty Neptune, appearances may be deceiving," I intoned. "I will prove to you that I am indeed a wizard of great power. Look!" I pointed dramatically at Merlin, in the guise of a young Greek sailor, one of our crew. "I will transform that youthful sailor into a wizened old man before the eyes of everyone in this arena. With you, mighty Neptune, as my witness."
All eyes turned to stare at Merlin. Human, immortal, satyr, alien, dwarf, all turned to stare at the young, curly-haired Greek sailor standing next to the lovely gray-eyed, blond human girl.
Merlin met my eyes. It was an acknowledgment that he had lost, at least for now. I hoped it was an acknowledgment. He had to play along with me now; I'd trapped him, or we'd both be skewered.
Merlin was no fool. He nodded slightly, his lips forming a thin smile. A worthy adversary. He was going to go along with me.
I put my hand on the hilt of my sword. "Watch closely!" I commanded, jumping off the stage. "I am going to turn this sailor in the prime of his life into a feeble, decrepit old man!"
Again, Neptune laughed. This time, the laugh was short and nasty. "None are so decrepit as the dead, wizard. I wish to see you turn this living mortal into a lifeless piece of ripped flesh and spilled blood. That is what I wish to see."
"David!" It was April, behind me, but what could she say or do to help? In Neptune's mind at least, maybe in the Roman mind in general, there obviously was a very fine line between comedy and violence. Between harmless goofing around and sheer brutality.
I didn't turn around. Instead, I stalked toward Merlin, who stepped away from Senna, almost as if to greet me. The person supposed to kill him. I couldn't imagine Neptune would change his mind at the last minute, issue a reprieve. Wasn't sure I wanted him to. Kill Merlin, or be killed by Neptune? A no-brainer. Kill Merlin, one less enemy, one less threat to Senna.
Close, closer I stepped, breasting my way through the weighty, watery atmosphere, until I was within ten, maybe twelve feet of Merlin. Until I could look into his eyes, the large brown eyes of a Greek boy on the verge of manhood. The body I was going to slaughter in cold blood.
"Your sword will not harm me, David," he said now, lips barely moving but the words were dear. "It was I who gave it to Galahad, I who wove the magic spells about it. You may try, but you will not succeed in harming me."
Relief warred with frustration. Defeated again. It would have been murder. It would have been mercy.
My sword. It wouldn't abandon me. I pulled on it. It didn't move, stayed nestled in its scabbard. What? Pulled again with more effort — maybe it was the strange environment that sapped my strength — yanked. Nothing.
Someone snickered.
One more try and yes, the sword came free. I lifted it, tried to lift it, grabbed the hilt with both hands, grunted, pulled, tugged it up to point straight out from my chest. I was panting.
And more and more people were beginning to laugh. Right, I was a comedy act, like an early Jerry Lewis movie where he's always stumbling and falling down and looking like a jerky marionette. My father used to watch those movies, Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin. I never understood the appeal and now here I was, doing a skit straight out of a Martin and Lewis classic.
Merlin stepped back. I tried to step forward but... was whirled in a three-sixty by the sword, like a beachcomber holding an out-of-control metal detector. I fell to my knees, hands still gripping the sword, tried to haul myself to my feet, stumbled, grunted, fighting the resisting sword. Hearing the laughter of the crowd growing, growing. And no sooner was I standing then the sword yanked me to the left, and I followed, running awkwardly, unable and unwilling to let go, stumbling when the sword suddenly changed directions, swung to the right.
Above the laughter of the hoi polloi, Neptune's plebeian, subservient people, I heard the god himself, roaring, screaming, slapping his knee. I was killing him, I ruled, me arid my moron impersonation.
The sword swung me around again and again until now I was facing Merlin once more. And could see that Merlin had released his hold on Senna, saw her glide toward Jalil, Christopher, April, not because they were her friends but because they were where I would soon be and she would be safe. She hoped.
Okay, I thought, exhausted, furious, all right, I'm not going to have to kill him now, not yet. The sword immediately lost its independence and was my sword again, my weapon. I sheathed it.
"Excellent, wizard!" Neptune boomed. "I am well pleased.
Now, come, lucky sailor, your life has been spared, come have a drink with me."
Fine, I was a great wizard but it was Merlin who was invited to hang with the god. Fine by me. More than fine.
I made my way back to the others, forgotten, at least for now, by a god in serious need of Prozac.
Chapter
XIII
"David, we've got to get out of here," Senna said. Her eyes were wild, her voice strained. She'd been scared by the ease with which Merlin had almost taken her away. More scared, I thought, than by his overblown effort in Egypt
"I know," I said. "Merlin will come for Senna again, as soon as he can."
"But the party's just getting going, man," Christopher argued.
"What can it hurt to hang a bit? Plenty of gorgeous merwomen.
Plenty of food and wine. And a vomitorium so when you've had just a little too much you can purge a little and start all over again."
Jalil shook his head. "Christopher? You don't even know what a vomitorium really is."
"A hurling room."
"No. A vomitory is an entrance, or exit, I suppose, cutting through the seats of a stadium. It's an architectural term.
Vomitorium, Latin. It's a door, a passageway...."
Christopher raised his eyebrows. "A gateway? So, Senna is a vomitorium? Jalil, you are just a wealth of useful information."
"Stop it!" I shouted. Senna's face was pale, her posture rigid.
“No one's paying attention to us — let's keep it that way, okay, boys? Look, I personally think we should just let Merlin take her."
Her. April could barely manage to say her half sister's name anymore. Senna was standing not six feet away from her and April was talking about her like she wasn't even there.
I didn't say anything.
"Sounds okay to me," Christopher said. "Senna goes with Merlin. Or we can just leave her here to take care of herself.
She's an opportunist, she'll live. And then we haul ass out of here."
Jalil spoke. Didn't look at Senna when he did. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm for taking Senna with us. What happens to her is not the issue, folks, Neptune's the issue. He's insane and dangerous. He makes Jeffrey Dahmer look as cute and cuddly as my little sister's Hello Kitty collec
tion. He could be killing Merlin right now, for all we know. We get out now, however we can. Get back to Olympus. Take Senna with us."
"Okay," April said shortly. "But has anyone even started thinking about how we get out of here? How we get to the surface? And if we make it that far, then what? Swim a hundred miles to shore?"
"Oh ye of little faith," Senna mocked. It was an odd thing to say especially to April "David will get us out of here. He always has a plan. Don't you, David?"
She smiled and I thought. What's her deal this time? She needs us to stay alive, free.
"Maybe not always," I said, not taking the bait, directing my comment to the others. "But right now, yeah. At least the start of a plan."
"Speak on, MacDuff."
April widened her eyes. "Shakespeare? You, Christopher?"
"Always the persecution. Always the assumptions, the prejudice. I'm not exactly a huge sack of stupid, you know. I..."
I interrupted. "Did you all see those chariots, outside the arena, on the way down here? We find one, take it, maybe two, ride like crazy to the surface."
"Assuming we don't get killed by Neptune's boys in the process," Jalil said. "And that those rigs are more than capable Of getting us to the surface. From what I saw, they're pulled by seagoing creatures. Dolphins, sea horses."
"Killer whales. And those huge sea turtles," April added.
"Want to make a bet they can't breathe air?" Jalil stopped, nodded thoughtfully. "Wait, what am I saying? We've met flying horses. And talking worth a try."
Christopher shook his head. "Uh-uh. Did you see how fast those things were going? Of course, I don't know exactly because, hey, I've never lived underwater before! I don't quite get the rules."
Christopher nodded to Jalil. "You don't remember the other part of that little joyride Athena sent us on? Besides the talking horses? Remember that we were almost slammed and rattled to death by horses who seriously did not know the meaning of the word 'whoa.' I could barely handle a horse-drawn vehicle on land, and I'm used to land. Water is another story."