EFFECTS OF OPENNESS / CH. 4:INTRODUCTIONS
WEDNESDAY, 8TH AUGUST, 2277
“Commander Sue Reynolds has been assigned as military attaché, and de-facto ambassador,” the king said, “you've read her report I presume?”
“Yes, sir.” Harry said,
“Genetically she is half Mer, but didn't know anything of her heritage as she was growing up. She's also romantically involved with Queen Karella's brother, Amos Tunaspeed. You've read up on the naming system?”
“I learned a little bit about it on Mars, sir. I didn't realise they were Mer of course.”
“Oh yes. Well, anyway, Sue and Amos are apparently very much an item, which is fine. We're operating on the assumption that full status of allies is going to apply. They're an old civilization, their priorities, even their assumptions, are not ours. The way we were totally surprised by that little show of force down on the coast of the Republic of the Beautiful Peninsula demonstrates that fairly well.
I guess we can all learn from that: they don't make idle threats, or empty promises, so if someone offers to carve out your tripes, I'd assume they mean it.
“We're sending you to help negotiate what is basically a trade agreement. You won't be main negotiator, Albert will be hammering out the final points in my name. But you'll be there longer, making some initial discoveries, exploring points they might be willing to negotiate on, and so on. Then, before it's signed, you'll also be looking through the contract with a fine toothed comb, as will others, of course. “The big trade deal is the land for radioactive waste management. We've got an agreement in principle, but it comes down to details.
So, Harry, that'll be your job: to make sure we get a good, watertight contract. You'll probably want to tread very carefully, I'm sure they've got good lawyers, lots of historical studies, and they'll deliberately leave themselves loopholes if they can. But you've been commended to me as someone who can be respectful, firm, honest, and fair but can also handle themselves if things get physical. That seems like an ideal balance for negotiating with them, so that's why you're now diplomatic staff.
“Things shouldn't get physical, but you never know. The fact that they've been hiding for millennia shows a distinct distrust of land people, if you ask me, and distrust and fear might lead to accidents and misinterpretations.
The rule for the sailors who'll be assigned there is universally to back down in case of trouble, because the assumption is going to be that they started it. It's a good rule, but you're on the negotiating staff and I'm assuming you've got sufficient self-control to not start anything.”
“I'll certainly try not to sir.”
“So, you're going there to negotiate, but you're also going there to learn and make friends for us. I fully expect that with their technology they'll be able to do the impossible, just like they've done with that second dome they've almost finished. Therefore, for example, on the nuclear waste issue, before you adopt any negotiating position, try to find out just how hard a thing you're asking, how many kilos or tonnes per day might they process? And also where? My thought is that it would be advantageous to us, geopolitically, to set up some scheme with them where in exchange for a perpetual lease on some coastline with a hunting area like they're after, we get access to their converters on a perpetual basis, and we get to sell on that access. Perhaps that would mean it being based on our territory and run by us and them jointly, something along those lines. Speak about irradiated metals from fusion reactors as an ongoing need, for example, plus spent fuel from research reactors and the like. I certainly don't want to strike up a deal where every new piece of waste we find or create costs us some extra coastline.
“As for other deals we'd like you to investigate, first what not to bother with: they've got gold by the bucket load but may not trade it to outsiders, as they count it as a strategic resource. It's just not worth mentioning. Other metals can be traded, as can precious gems and they're apparently gradually realising that smoked ham is not worth its weight in them. Though perhaps you could find out what is worth that sort of trade. I'm guessing but maybe silver is more valuable to them than gold? Who knows?
“People who've played on their ignorance have found themselves very quickly added to their list of 'sharks', and totally rejected as trading partners. We have no desire to fall into that category, but while we don't want to take advantage, we absolutely do want to get a very good deal. Quite simply, what I'd be interested to know is if there's anything which is reasonably rare for them, which we can give them in exchange for something that is reasonably rare for us, but without going to the exploiting ignorance thing. It might be worth asking, for example, if they're interested in wood or which manufactured goods they'd be interested in, and so on. Commander Reynolds has mentioned that they're not into mass production. So that's a possibility. Another possibility is that they might be interesting in having us produce stuff for them. We're not going to be able to beat certain other countries on real quantity stuff, but perhaps something where it's not so ultra-high tech that they don't want to tell us how they make it, and it's boring enough that they'd be happy to see some economies of scale without loss of quality control. One thing Sue thought of was displays... theirs are really rugged and high quality, but they're almost hand-made. As you know, the ones we get imported aren't the same quality as we make, but cost a fraction of the amount. I think it's pretty clear that they see the cost/reliability equation differently to us so maybe they'd be swayed by some of our more up-market produce where it's not a race to the bottom. The trade ministry will be sending someone in a few weeks who knows that side of things pretty well, but again, we're asking you to be both feeling out the territory first and checking up on contract details.”
“I understand, sir.” Harry said, thinking that being a body guard had been a lot easier.
“Well, I think that's covered everything, hasn't it?” the king asked.
“I believe so, sir” Harry said.
“Father,” Albert said, “did you want to mention the issue in Alice's report?”
“Ah, thank you Albert, yes. Harry, Alice has mentioned you have in your possession a letter of introduction to a young lady from there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tempting though it might be, please don't just rush to deliver it as soon as you're on Atlantis. I expect that Commander Reynolds or Amos — from the sound of it you'll be meeting him soon enough — can give advice on how it should be delivered in a culturally appropriate manner.”
“Thank you, your majesty.”
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FRIDAY, 17TH AUGUST, 2277. 3PM, ABOVE ATLANTIS 2
Harry had watched the news and looked at the footage of this amazing construction site, but he was still surprised, and awed by the reality as his plane approached. A dome two kilometres across, was slowly taking shape, he knew. The top of the wall of the dome looked like it was just a few meters above the waves, but it didn't look that wide a circle to him. From his window seat on the sea-plane he could look out and see into the hole. It was a bit like looking over the edge of the Marinaras canyon on Mars, he realised, or maybe it was like looking into the grand-canyon, but he hadn't seen that sight. The difference, of course, was that this was a building project that hadn't even been thought of a month ago. He saw what looked like a large piece of ice being lifted out of the water by a machine that looked distinctly crab-like. The crab-machine hauled the crystal out of the water and spent maybe half a minute adjusting its position. Harry realised he needed to adjust his perspective when he saw that there were people beside the piece of crystal. The crystal piece was massive, tens of metres tall, and at least ten metres thick. Then, once everything seemed to be in place, there was a shimmer around the block, a bright flash, and the join he'd been looking at was gone. The crystal had, somehow, been fused into the dome. The crab, which Harry now realised must be as big as the largest earth-mover he'd ever heard of, dropped into the water, and was gone.
“Impressive, isn't it?” his pilot asked.
“Very” Harry agreed.
“Those crabs they've got now are really speeding things up too. A couple of weeks ago it was all guys with what amount to forcefield crowbars, spending about quarter of an hour juggling everything into position.”
“You're saying the crab was just... made for the job?”
“No, apparently they're some kind of deep-sea exploration vehicle. According to the Commander, all they needed to do was add the forcefield generators and lasers to fuse the crystal together.”
“It's still impressive.”
“I know. You realise they've had almost all of this tech since the cold war? They don't have missiles, so what? They're working on a forcefield powered launcher to send stuff to Mars. It started off as a few kilos but I think they've upped the payload to about a tonne now, just in case. I'm sure they could have come up with something to lobb some of their antimatter bombs around if they'd wanted to. And once the combined airforces were reduced to nothing more threatening than a kid's radio controlled plane, they could have just put their harbour-slicing lasers on some of those crabs and it would have been like war of the worlds, only without the germs on our side. No question that they could have knocked us back to the dark ages in my mind. I reckon they still could, easy. It's not even occurred to them yet, as far as I know.”
“You're saying they'd make bad enemies?”
“They'd make terrible enemies. They don't think it's right to fight with anything beyond knives, spears and blow darts.”
“Yeah, I've heard about the blow darts.”
“The guys have worked out that they're pretty harmless, and I know a few who seem to think it's great fun to challenge a mermaid to blow-dart them before he gets to her table. If he gets to the table, she pays for the drink, if he doesn't then he does, once he can walk again.”
“What does the commander think of that?”
“Not much. I mean, why don't they just buy the girl a drink without the challenge? It's not like they ever win, and one day they're going to try it on the wrong girl and get knifed instead.”
“Yeah, or the right girl but she'd got the wrong dart loaded.”
“Eh?”
“From what I've heard, they pretty much all carry a few lethal darts as well as the floppy-potion, just in case of a serious threat.”
“Now that sounds like a good rumour to spread even if it's not true.”
“Feel free,” Harry said.
“Can I say who you heard it from?”
“Woman who's now their ambassador on Mars, back when I thought she was just a truthsayer with a few odd secrets in her past. I never thought it might be this big a secret.”
“Pretty amazing isn't it. I wonder what's next? Someone finding there really are Martians?”
“I count as one. I lived there since it got independence, almost.”
“Really? What's it like?”
“Changing, constantly changing.”
“Yeah, I can imagine that. Odd thing here, there's things like this dome taking shape, and the harbour of course, and all these new developments, but their attitude is 'Well, it's going to be a bit busy, but I'm sure we'll get back to normal soon enough, anyone for a swim?'”
“I read the commander's report about goofing off.”
“It's a high art-form, if you ask me. Those engineers over there?” he nodded to where the new dome was being built, “They're doing it because solving problems like that is fun to them. It's their hobby, not their job. So if they feel like going for a swim, of course they do.”
“Hard to imagine anything gets done.”
“That's the thing. They don't worry when it doesn't. It's like cats, you know? Laze around, have a ball, and then get active when you need to. Commander explained it to us when we got here. We think we're the top of the food chain, but really, we're not. We've always had to struggle to bring home the food, raise the crops or whatever. These guys, they're the real deal. They've got no expression like 'keeping the wolf from the door.' Oh they sometimes get eaten by sharks, but mostly it's the sharks that get served for lunch, not the Mer. No way most of us land-folk could go one-on-one against a wolf, we need to think of ways to trick them, trap them, or whatever. They'd expect pretty much any eighteen year old to be able to take out a shark, and the last time they really went to war against anyone was the Romans, and the Romans had better tech, and still they didn't beat the Mer, not really. No triumphal march through the streets of Rome, just that idiot-emperor claiming some sea-shells when the Mer weren't around to dart him. What really happened is the Mer swam off the battle field to find somewhere they could play in the waves.”
“I just hope they protect their tech.”
“Oh, they will. They're pretty sure we'd turn it against them eventually.”
“How many engineers are working on that dome?”
“About fifty. Why?”
“It takes Mars-Corp's building teams about six months to make an eight hundred metre diameter dome. There's about two hundred workers per dome. And if you were stupid you could cut through one with a bread-knife. They also need constant renovations because of the dust storms.”
“I guess I see what you mean. But I've got permission to land, finally. No subs or swimmers in the way now.”
“Swimmers? Out here?” Harry was surprised.
“Plenty.”
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FRIDAY, 17TH AUGUST, 2277. 4PM. ATLANTIS
“Welcome to Atlantis,” Commander Sue Reynolds said.
“Thank you, Commander.”
“This is Amos, this is Harry, who's here to try and make sure Karella doesn't sell us any chocolate.”
“Chocolate?” Harry was confused, but Amos laughed.
“My sister once got hold of some chocolate and sold it for its weight in diamonds. That was about a decade ago, and for the record, she was a bit disappointed with herself for letting it go so cheaply, actually, since diamonds don't melt in your mouth in quite the same way.”
“James said he came from an isolated people. But wow! No chocolate is really isolated. I'd like to also say that I'm here to make sure we're not accused of trading pork for diamonds.”
“But nuts for pearls would be acceptable?” Amos asked.
“Pardon?”
“Back when you were just developing supersonic passenger flight — the first time, that is, an ancestress of mine married a land-man, and sold the Merfolk steel nuts encased in lacquer for pearls. At the time, iron was really valuable amongst us, because of the rust problem, and pearls were just a thing you fished out of your soup and gave to your children to play with. So everyone was happy with the trade, especially Karella. My sister's named after her.”
“I take it iron isn't so valuable now?”
“Not at all, I'm afraid.”
“Any other metals that are, and are easier to get or process on land?”
“Oh, I'm sure there are,” Amos said, “but the whole problem that's got lots of people confused is what the relative values of things are.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Harry said.
“Take gems, for example,” Sue said, showing him her necklace. “Most families would expect to be able to find something like the raw stone Amos cut this from after about three days of looking. Does that make them cheap? Probably not, because there aren't that many of them, and people only go looking every few years, and you'd need to be very selfish to ruin everyone else's fun by picking up all the ones you find. So, they're sort of rare and sort of precious, and people who did sell them for a new exotic taste are pretty upset now they know the person they sold them to could buy himself a decade's supply of pork when all they got a few meals worth.”
“Yes. Exploiting ignorance isn't nice. But, speaking of ignorance, Amos, I was told that most mermaids would also carry a few poison darts as well as the muscle relaxant ones, just in case they need it.”
“Oh? Who told you that?”
“Ruth, on Mars. I understand she's ambassador there now.”
“I've never asked, but it's probably true.”
“The pilot thought it was worth spreading that information around,” Harry told Sue.
“It might stop some stupidity, yes. He told you about what's going on?” Sue asked.
“Men getting themselves darted? Yes.”
“It started with one foolish girl, challenging someone. Now it seems to be a bit of a craze. But I can see it ending badly even without the risk of poison.”
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“You think that someone might think they'll get more than a drink out of it?” Amos asked.
“I'd expect so,” Harry said, “I mean, I presume the sailors are already not thinking very clearly.”
“Drunk, you mean?” Sue asked, “Not so far. It takes them an hour or so to recover, so it tends to happen at the beginning of the evening.”
“I don't know if it's conscious,” Harry said, “but by trying this on a regular basis, they're training themselves in how to avoid getting darted, and possibly even thinking they can immunise themselves against the effects.”
“That's not good,” Sue agreed.
“Or even learning the symptoms well enough to pretend to have been darted when they were missed, and thus catching someone unawares,” Harry added.
Sue looked at him in shock at the implications. “Right. It needs to stop, doesn't it?”
“It does.” Amos agreed, “But how?”
“Option one, the girls stop playing. Option two the men decide it's not worth the risk. I could ban it, but I'd be worried that'll just drive it underground, which would probably be even worse.”
“Let's call in Lara. I think this is entirely her territory,” Amos said.
“Lara? Oh, the woman who's been named head trainer?” Sue asked.
“Yes, I think she needs to be aware that some of her potential trainees might be training sailors how to be dangerous sharks.”
“Urm,” Harry said, “Is Lara a common name?”
“Not very,” Amos said.
“Do you think I should be involved in this meeting?”
“If you don't mind. I know it's not exactly negotiating...”
“Until a week ago I was in diplomatic protection, Commander. This is much more familiar ground, looking at potentially dangerous patterns of behaviour and the like. It's just... I think I might have a letter for Lara, from James.”
“This is James Newsbringer?” Amos asked.
“I knew him as James Montgomery,” Harry said, “I'm not sure of his Mer name.”
“That's him. What's he doing writing letters to Lara?”
Harry blushed, “If it's the right Lara, urm, well...”
“Don't answer if you don't want to, Harry.” Sue said, “What we obviously need to do is talk more, and show you to your room.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Harry said, “James called it a letter of introduction, just in case I ever met her. Is there some appropriate way to deliver such a thing?”
Amos grinned, “Oh! Well, if I were you I'd start with a shower and a change of clothes and a shave of course. Have you got the letter easily accessible?”
“It's in my pack here.”
“I presume James wrote an address on it?”
“It looked like cuneiform to me.”
“Can I check, just to check it's the right one. I think I know two Laras, come to think of it.”
“Urm, yes. Come to think of it, I hope it is an address, not some practical joke.” Gingerly he showed the precious letter to Amos.
Amos read and translated it, “To Lara Knifetongue bnt Lydia Japathe hi Enoch Wilma, last known in the sector of the setting sun, Turnbull tower, floor ten. From James Newsbringer. Well well well!”
“Well well what?” Sue asked Amos.
“That's quite the traditional form of address. Lara likes tradition. It is indeed the right woman. How about we take you to your room and collect you about half an hour later, when we've made sure she's free?”
“That sounds good, thank you.”
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4.30PM, ATLANTIS
“Amos,” Sue asked, when they'd dropped Harry off, “what's so funny?”
“Funny? Funny isn't the right word, Sue. But for James to use that form of address just screams 'I'm playing match-maker' to me.”
“But he's never met her.”
“I know. But that sort of address is... I don't know... arranged marriages and things from hundreds of years ago.”
“Maybe James got it wrong?”
“I doubt it. Well, OK, I guess he could have been really uncertain that she'd moved addresses, but Lara Knifetongue Lydia Enoch would have been unique enough. Let's face it, Lara Knifetounge would be.”
“So, you're going to warn her?”
“Sue, if someone had been playing matchmaker and was arranging our first meeting, would you have wanted me to know that but for it to be a total surprise to you and you'd come straight from a sparring match in a grubby T-shirt?”
“Probably not.”
“I think we ought to tell her.”
“Fine.”
“Well, actually, you ought to tell her.”
“Me?” Sue asked.
“Only appropriate.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm a coward and I wouldn't know where to start.”
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4.40PM, WEAPONS TRAINING AREA, ATLANTIS
“Hi Lara,” Amos said, “we come in peace.” it was a training session, with blowpipes.
“Rhianna tells me the next line is 'shoot to kill'”
“Not normally,” Sue corrected quickly, as several blowpipes turned to point at her and Amos.
“Anyway, we'd like to arrange a meeting, if it's OK, about this dangerous craze of sailors getting themselves darted.”
“It shouldn't hurt them,” Lara said, shrugging.
“More what the social consequences might be, and how to stop it, without driving it underground.” Sue said.
“Oh, well, we're coming to the end of this session, would in ten minutes be OK?”
Amos nudged Sue, who glared at him, and said “Amos has something he thinks I ought to tell you, but I think he ought to say it himself.”
“We'll have someone called Harry with us, who's just arrived, with a letter for you.”
“I don't know anyone called Harry.”
“No. James Newsbringer put your name and address on the outside, and I presume he wrote the inside too.”
“Oh, OK.” Lara said, as though it meant nothing to her.
“Along with your grandmothers' names.”
“I get the point. Your sister told me there was one coming.”
“Oh. So, should we just come when he's got himself ready?”
“I've got another session at half past five, it depends how much time you want to chat for.”
“We'll try to get here at five.” Amos said.
“Fine,” Lara said, turning back to the young women she was training. “Right, when you're ready, throw the balls gently towards each other and make sure it's got a dart in it before it hits you. No Helen, you can't have your pipe in your hand to start with, unless you're planning to walk around the whole day like that. This is supposed to be testing your reactions.”
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4.43PM
“Not the response I expected,” Amos said.
“Well, maybe she's not interested, or maybe she's embarrassed in front of the students.”
“Or, maybe that's the traditional response, it might be, for all I know.”
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5.00PM, WEAPONS TRAINING AREA, ATLANTIS
“So, what's this about darting your sailors?” Lara asked, before introductions had been made. Sue saw she had changed, but she was still roughly the same work clothes.
“Harry used to be in diplomatic protection, basically an ambassadorial honour guard with real threats. He thought the way sailors were getting themselves darted might be because they're after more than a drink.” Sue said, and looked at Harry.
“And even worse is it might also train them how to react to simulate getting darted,” Harry added, “Which wouldn't be good.”
“If someone missed, you mean?” Lara asked, and sounding insulted.
“Or they were immune, or wearing some kind of dart-proof protection,” Harry quickly said.
“In other words,” Amos said, “if there are any sharks among them, it might be training them how to be dangerous. Mix that with alcohol...”
“What might go though the alcohol-confused mind of a land-man?” she asked Harry, “I've never met one to talk to.”
“I hope you will not judge everyone by what I say, but I am concerned that these sailors are not as honourable as they should be. Among land-folk, Committed Christians are not the majority. I cannot fathom what they hope to get from being repeatedly darted except to gain experience from it, or perhaps immunity. I don't know if that's possible, but perhaps if not immunity then a faster recovery. In any case, I cannot think of an honourable reason for this. If a dishonorable man wanted to fake being hit, and were to convince a mermaid into thinking she is safe... She might be in danger, and in the wrong circumstances it might lead to dishonourable actions.”
“Very nicely and euphemistically put, land-man, I prefer precision.”
“Very well, Lara. I fear they are letting your mermaids train them in how to deceive. The word mermaid has sexual connotations to some men. They are practicing trying to avoid getting darted, while running towards mermaids. I fear what will happen if they reach their target. There will be sexual connotations, and they might think themselves very clever if they play this so-called-game late into the night after they have bought their intended victim sufficient alcohol that she misses. I do not know how quickly a blowpipe can be reloaded, but if they fake being hit then with this practice they know all they need to in order to make her think she is safe.
I have read a document from long ago from a diving centre in New Zealand, saying that it was not uncommon in the past for a mer-man to chain himself a concubine. I also know that the diving centre was accused many years later of employing people illegally. I do not know if the document is fictional, or it is truth masked as fiction. But would a mermaid of today expect chains or rope from a man they believed unable to move? Would a girl who has grown up in the safety of a Christian society, where rape is unthinkable, think the man who has been befriending her over the past weeks intends to attack her and commit rape?”
“Rape, then, is common?” Lara asked Sue.
“Common? No. But it occurs. I have warned the sailors that the punishment is death or castration, up to the victim, and she can do justice herself. But that is an alien thought to them, and they probably think I joked. As being darted has become a joke. I would prefer it to be less funny.”
“Amos, have you spoken to Karella of this?”
“No. I came to you, thinking my sister is busy enough, thinking you should hear straight from this man's mouth, who bears our people no ill-will. And after I had suggested this, He reacted to your name and I learned he bears a letter for you.”
“Yes. How did you hear my name?”
“James Montgommery, who you name Newsbringer, said that if ever his people stopped hiding, he would introduce me to someone he knew called Lara.”
“And you find my face fascinating.”
“I saw your face in my dreams many times, until the day James gave me the letter. I sent him the image and he confirmed it was the Lara he was thinking of. He wrote your name on the letter, but did not tell me what he wrote. After that, the dreams stopped, and I've only memories of them.”
“You hear thoughts?”
“I do.”
“And do you seek to make me think I am safe?”
“I dreamed also of your knife at my throat, but you did not seem afraid, and I felt I did not need to fear your knife.”
“Because you could overpower me?
“Because you had no desire to really do me harm, and the knife was merely part of how you debate.”
“We were debating?”
“You were telling me that Plato was a plagiarist.”
“He was.” Lara said.
“I would be happy to discuss why you think that with you. But I did not expect we would meet so soon on my arrival, and I am unprepared. My letter of introduction to you.” He handed it to her.
She glanced at it and said “I will read it later.”
“I would not ask otherwise. James did not tell me what he had written, only the briefest summary. He did not know how I could ever meet you.”
“He didn't tell you to look for me swimming in the bay of Biscay, or around the Azores then?”
“He told me you liked to swim, but not where. I suggested I would do better to look for you at airports, which he found hilarious. I see why now. You did not seem very surprised at the letter.”
“Karella told me that James had told her of it.”
“Oh.”
“She told me it convinced her that there would be land-men coming, and that our mermaids should be prepared. It seems I have not prepared them well enough. They treat their preparations as a joke, a thing to make fun of.”
“I want the sailors to fear your darts. Ruth, James' cousin tells me most Mermaids would also carry poison darts.”
“Ruth said that?”
“She is now ambassador to Mars.”
“They should. It is true.”
“How dangerous a poison?” Sue asked.
“Deadly, from what Ruth said. She demonstrated... some of the steps.” Harry said, “She didn't want to make it properly, but it added another few things to the list of what to look out for.”
“From the red beans?” Lara asked.
“Red kidney beans, yes.” Harry agreed.
“I've misjudged my cousin. I'm glad.”
“But having poison darts is not very common?” Sue asked.
“I don't know. I carry them, of course.”
“So you have poison darts and incapacitating darts?”
“Yes. And some warning darts.”
“Warning darts?” Sue asked.
“Painful. Very painful. We use them to make sharks go away.”
“That sounds good.” Sue said.
“Good?” Amos asked, surprised.
“Yes. I would like some sailors playing this stupid game to get hit by warning darts.”
“Sue...”
“Yes?”
“They can't shoot warning darts at people.”
“Not even two-legged sharks?” Harry asked.
“I am convinced that anyone who asks to be darted as though it is a game is a shark.” Sue said.
“Some mermaids will not want to shoot their new friends like this.”
“I think they choose bad friends,” Sue said, “Just so I know... are there long term effects?”
“Some weakness or disorientation for maybe a day,” Lara said. “I don't know, it's been a long time since any human was hit by one.”
“Lara, in your role, can you make sure there are... repercussions for a mermaid who does not carry all three types of darts?” Sue asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. I'll inform the sailors of the three types of dart, and re-iterate my disapproval of this activity. How painful?”
“Have you heard of the little fish which hides in wet sand, and gives people a what they think is a little scratch if they tread on it, but soon after they are crying in pain?”
“Urm, Weever fish? It sounds like one.” Sue asked.
“Maybe, I don't know what you call it. A bit like that, but the pain from one of those starts too slowly. Our warnings start quickly.”
“Nice.” Sue said, “Is it dangerous?”
“I don't know.” Lara said, “We don't normally use them on people.”
“Let's talk to someone who knows, then, before we get to stage two,” Sue said.
“Stage two?” Amos asked.
“Make sure some two legged sharks start getting hit by one, of course.”
“Harry,” Lara said, making a decision, “will you please stay, and tell the group who I will practice with what you have told me?”
“I'm willing, of course. But I don't know my way around this city, or even back to my room.”
“Then I will have to decide if I want your input enough to be your guide,” Lara said, “And I am not used to being anyone's guide.”
“Sorry. I looked for a map, but did not find one.”
“There are none I know of,” Sue said.
“We're working on one,” Amos said, “But with all the signs in old Mer it isn't going to help visitors much.”
“And do not ask us to write in Latin script,” Lara said, “The Romans tried to commit genocide against us.”
“Not Latin Lara, but perhaps English?” Amos suggested, “There are enough differences, I think.”
“Hmph, maybe. I do not like how much Latin there is in English.”
“English has borrowed words from French, Latin, Greek, Hindi, Romani, Hungarian, Japanese, Chinese, and so on. When we meet a new concept we usually borrow the word for it, rather than make one up.”
“I know. I still do not like the Romans or their language.”
“We were too proud, Lara. We made enemies of Rome.”
“They attacked our allies, we warned them. They declared war.”
“We weren't exactly polite.”
“Rudeness is not the same as starting a war,” Lara said.
“Some people might say that sending their ambassador home without any clothes was an act of war,” Amos said, smiling.
“He was drowning,” Lara replied, “Our people rescued him from his heavy armour, and put him on the right path to home.”
“And why was he drowning?” Amos asked.
“That wasn't us. It was the whale that broke their silly little ship.”
“And why was the whale there?”
“To stop their ship, not so they could ram the poor animal.”
“And I suppose writing on his body was just because our people didn't have anything else to write on?”
“Exactly.”
“Lara, our actions led to the sinking of his ship, we then publicly humiliated their ambassador, and basically brought the war on ourselves. If you remember, Sathzakara then proceeded to do almost exactly the same thing to the warrior in the cove. We stated our position and expected the world to jump to our tune. The only difference between the Roman ambassador and the warrior in my book is that that was we didn't get seen that time and it was taken by the Maori as evidence we were spirit-beings. I think we were just incredibly lucky that we ended up with allies and not a war in New Zealand.”
“You're welcome to your unfounded ideas, Amos. I'll stick to facts.”
Harry wasn't convinced, “From the evidence I have just heard, and not having any preconceptions on the matter, I think Amos won the argument, Lara. The whole point of an ambassador is that they represent the honour of the crown, why else do your ambassadors' letters of introduction carry the warning 'or face the consequences'? By failing to accord his person respect due his position your people certainly bear a significant portion of the blame for the subsequent reaction. However, I think an event which an individual warrior gets sent home in disgrace after ignoring a threat should not be taken as a similar attempt to start a war. As long as he wasn't a chief or someone of similar status.”
“Ha! See, Amos! I won that point!” Lara claimed.
“Indeed. Thanks for the correction, Harry, and it's nice to see you at your normal form, Lara. You seemed a little subdued earlier.”
She looked at him suspiciously, “You started that deliberately?”
“Believe it or not Lara, the world is not divided between people who don't know you and people who hate you.”
“Ha. Maybe you don't know me well enough yet, then.”
“Is it a tradition amongst the Mer not to admit it when they've been bettered in a debate or in combat for that matter?”
“No, of course not,” Lara said, “Amos just did.”
“I'm glad. So, can you help me to understand why you've let Amos's arguments win the day without any acknowledgement of that? I didn't get the impression from James or Ruth that your culture was lacking in politeness.”
Lara's knife appeared at his throat. He didn't blink.
“It's just her way not to, Harry,” Amos said.
“Please remove your knife, Lara,” Harry said, “I admit I'm impressed at your hand-eye coordination, but it's not really helping me work out what's going on.”
“What's going on is you're leaving,” Lara said.
“How often do you misjudge people, Lara?” Harry asked, “I'm just asking because you seem to be misjudging me, you seem to be misjudging Amos's unusual declaration of friendship, and you said earlier that you'd misjudged your cousin Ruth.”
“What makes you think you've got the right to ask questions like that, Land-man?”
“Perhaps the knife at my throat? But if you'd read that letter you'd maybe arrive at your own conclusions. But I do think you ought to admit to Amos that he won your little debate. At least that time.”
“Karella told me about the letter, land-man. Why do I need to read it?”
“Because I'm guessing that James didn't tell your busy queen everything he wrote in it. Or if he did she didn't pass it on to you.”
“You're really not afraid of my knife, are you?”
“Why should I be?”
“It's sharp and it's at your throat.”
“My job, until I got re-assigned to negotiator, was to throw myself in the way of any knives, bullets and bombs I needed to in order to protect people I worked with. I don't think I've any real need to be afraid of a knife held by the woman I fully believe God has told me that I'll marry some decade. Perhaps I'll get cut a bit on the way to our wedding day, but I cut myself shaving pretty often and of course I've been stabbed and shot a few times at work. It's not very pleasant, of course, but I've survived far worse than you'll inflict on me, I'm sure.”
Sue had noticed Lara's shock at his calm pronouncement of his belief that they'd marry. And decided to intervene, “I don't think you're going to intimidate him into backing down, Lara. And I do think you ought to read that letter.”
“You don't even know I'm not married,” she threw at him.
“James wrote about that possibility too. But I think Amos wouldn't have needed to reprimand you about your attitude to people if you were.”
“Fine I'll read the letter.”
“And apologise to Amos for debating like some teenager who thinks they need to have the last word on everything?”
“You're really pushing your luck, aren't you?”
“No, I'm negotiating with your knife at my throat, didn't you notice?”
“I don't notice any give from your direction.”
“Do you approve of compromising principles?”
“No,” she said warily.
“Nor do I. For instance politeness is a good principle. I was brought up to expect it, especially to royalty.”
“Amos isn't royalty.”
“I will ask you about your usage, one day then, to me the term includes relatives of the monarch who are not in line of succession. And I said especially, not exclusively. And to my mind, by arguing that sub-point you implicitly accepted the main one: that politeness is a good principle, and yet I've still heard no apology.”
“Politeness is a good principle. You have been consistently rude to me the entire meeting.”
“Lying in order to avoid apologising is incredibly rude.” Harry pointed out, “I believe I have only been rude to you on one occasion, when I likened your behaviour to a teenager. Perhaps I was also rude to talk of my expectation we will marry in front of others, or when I was enjoying seeing your face in reality for the first time. If so, I whole-heartedly apologise and ask your forgiveness. But you ought to admit you are a very beautiful woman.”
“You don't apologise for likening me a teenager?”
“You believe I should break my principle of truthfulness? I apologise if it has caused you more offence than I intended, Lara.”
“Thus you try to win my love? With insults?”
“No. With gentle rebukes I try to win your apology. By standing up for principles, I hope to win your respect. By seeking that you act in accordance with principles you hold to, I hope to win your acknowledgement that I care about your reputation. As you accurately said, I do not know you are not married or betrothed, so it is too soon yet to speak of me trying to win your love.”
“I am not married nor betrothed,” Lara said, lowering her knife, “but I acknowledge that in you I have a suitor, and I acknowledge you won the debate, Amos.”
“Thank you, Lara.” Harry said, “Will you please send these good people on their way, and show me the beauty and plan of this wondrous city yourself?”
“You don't want much, do you?”
“Just the opportunity to get to know you better.”
“I have a knife, I have a tongue. What else is there to know of Lara Knifetongue?”
“The woman behind both, of course, who seems determined to hide behind both knife and tongue.”
“What if I do not want to be known?” she asked.
“Would you risk entering a marriage to someone who does not know you at all? Would that not lead to constant fear that when the intoxicating drug of eros wears off then only the duty to be faithful to vows would remain? I do not want you to be eaten away by such a fear, Lara.”
“I have not yet spoken of marriage, my suitor.”
“No. But I have spoken of my firm expectation, and you have not tried to gainsay me.”
“You told me God said it, and I will not make my God a liar. But you have not spoken of what he said, and it might be that you misunderstood.”
“I would much prefer to tell you in private, Lara, as we get to know each other.”
“Hmm.” Lara said, “Amos. I think I will put up with playing tour guide to this suitor you've brought me.”
“Commander, Amos,” Harry said, “I have no desire to expose Lara to ridicule. Please do not speak of my rebuking her.”
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