“What?”
“Veal,” Brother Al said.“The farmer sexes the calves before they grow to a certain age.The bulls, those not fit for breeding, they are castrated.Shoved in a small, dark chamber.Fed on sweet sugared milk, not allowed to move.They ripen—their flesh grows weak, and they cannot stand on their own.And yet—what pampering, I wonder.In truth, I had not thought Venom-heels capable of this sort of tactical positioning.”
“You’re saying he’s staying on the Prince’s good side by keeping him entertained and occupied,” I asked.
“There is a bit more malice and caustic foresight to it than that, but yes, essentially.I ought to know.In Wallachia, much the same was done to me, when my brothers stole my fief.”
“You couldn’t be mad at them, because they treated you so well.”
“Precisely,” Brother Al said.
“Seriously, are youtheDracula?”
“What kind of question is that?”Brother Al asked.It really wasn’t an answer.“We must investigate—see if we can probe what cracks there are in their relationship.This may take some time.”
I shook my head.Something had lodged in my chest—something wrong.I thought back on everything that had happened since we’d arrived—and something about it all just seemed so.I don’t know.Off.
“Are we sure Venom-heels is a bad guy?”I asked.
“What?You heard Flag-Staff.He decided he’d execute all of us.”
“Yeah,” I said.“But we didn’t hear it from Venom-heels.We heard it all from Flag-Staff.He’s theonly onewe’ve heard from in English.”
Brother Al looked stunned.
“You don’t think…” he began.
“All we can do is ask,” I said.“Ah, Prince Dorsl.Me and Al were having a discussion just now.We were wondering if you were paying attention at the trial.”
“Oh, of course,” the Prince said, froggy purple face wide.“What a show that was, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said.“What was the outcome of that trial?We don’t speak Aquan.”
“Oh,” the Prince said.“You were all pardoned, of course.You were set to be released at daybreak, but Flag-Staff argued it would be safer to keep you here for three days and release you at sunset.”
“What about the previous survivors from the other ship?”Brother Al asked.
“Oh, them,” Prince Dorsl said.“We couldn’t very well let them leave without their boat.There was a huge hole in the hull.”
“So, why didn’t they return?”
“Flag-Staff said he’d sent word to you, and that’s why you arrived,” the Prince said.He blinked, the same out-of-sync blink all Mermen were fond of doing.“Why, why do you ask?”
Al and I just exchanged glances, wordless.
Chapter9
Hours had passed since the Prince’s revelations.We were waiting on Eddie and Vic, but they were nowhere to be seen—so Brother Al and I ate a light supper (him quietly draining a live seabird, and me eating some skewered kelp patties, which weren’t as gross as they initially looked.) The Prince kept us decently entertained—talking at length about the annals of history here in the Coral Kingdom, and occasionally playing the harp.He was a decent conversationalist, and had an interesting point of view of things—but I could not help but worry about Vic and Eddie being off with Flag-Staff on his own, and I’m sure my anxiety was written all over my face.Brother Al was a perfectly attentive guest and conversationalist, nodding and sipping on his drink and perfectly leading the conversation along.It was like watching a master class in royal repartee.
The Prince and Brother Al had a lot in common, come to find out.I sat and listened to them talk of having powerful fathers—of being stuck in place due to the politics of the kingdom, what it was like to be a ceremonial figurehead, whose presence was so important to so many.The perspectives were amazing.Here I was, I thought, some little girl, daughter of a preacher, just some girl with an ugly birthmark and the inability to leave things alone, and I’m in the presence of actual factual royal blood.
They played cards afterwards—the Prince invited me, as well, but I couldn’t focus.Instead, I watched Brother Al and the Prince play, laugh, and carry on.They talked economics, trade, the resources the Prince and the Coral Kingdom had at their disposal—how they survived, what the shifts in ideology were.It was like reading an encyclopedia if I were being honest—but the ease and the grace with which the two batted ideas back and forth, the way they spoke of important things.It beggared belief, and the information just kept coming.
And for some reason.Watching Brother Al step into his power did something to me.For so long, I had seen him in a religious way—fatherly, perhaps, in the way you think of a Priest or a Pastor or a spiritual leader.Now he was a fiery, opinionated, brilliant tactician with a razor-sharp wit.He thought of politics like a chessboard—playing one piece against another, and understanding roles, allegiances and desires.
Soon enough, however, I found myself wanting to doze off.The Prince looked tired as well.Brother Al bid him adieu, and the Prince walked us to our quarters.It was a small set of rooms off the side of his room, only a small hallway away.
“Your rooms, for the next few days, as honored guests,” The Prince said.“I’ll let you two have some privacy.I suppose this has been a rather long day for you.”
