"As if we took any notice of land-bound troubles," the emperor drawled, his boredom plain to all. "Surely you have some news of interest beside the business of savages and their meaningless tribes."
The selkie somersaulted with agitation before settling down. The emperor yawned, used to the courtier's flighty nature. He firmly believed that air breathers should deal with air breathers, being already contaminated. Some sages believed seals, whales, and others needing air to be refugees from the land. Their ancestors were right to flee back to the sea, but Aboshan shuddered at the thought of such a lineage.
"Of course, your Imperial Highness," the seal answered, his tone hesitant as he searched for a new topic, one likely to interest the monarch. "There are problems regarding the treasures gathered inside the continent."
The emperor's attention focused on the selkie. The land might be filled with contemptible peoples, but it held the lion's share of past wars' spoils. The battlefields had only occasionally moved over the sea. Many of the prizes were lost in the ocean's abysmal depths where even the emperor's warrant had little weight. His beak snapped as he considered the dry kingdoms' salvage activities in retrieving ships lost at sea. It was only proper that his nation empty the land's treasure troves.
"Our explorers and diggers locate and transport the reclaimed prizes easily enough," the selkie said. "Bringing them to the coast is not the problem. But now that we move more of the discoveries to the court, we are having difficulties."
The seal spoke slower, for a thunderous expression grew on Aboshan's face. The emperor had instituted the policy of relocating the machines and objects of power from above the waves to below them. For decades, isolated stretches of coastline and caves on rocky islands had held the empire's loot recovered from ancient battlefields. The monarch had decided that such potential power must be brought under his direct physical control.
"Many of the mechanisms are delicate, and we find them difficult to repair," the selkie continued. "Fetishes are composed of materials that break down in the water. Worst of all, we have few trained to repair them. Perhaps it would be simpler to trade with the Cabal who is positioned to use them."
Aboshan swam free of the throne, his trident held in two tentacles as if to attack. The selkie froze as the guards became more alert. The trident was the symbol of the emperor's might, but now he used it as a simple weapon, laying the tines against the seal's neck.
"We find your suggestion unacceptable," the cephalid said, his voice freezing the courtier, as previous signs of displeasure had not. "What we have recovered is for our use," he said, the trident's barbed points puncturing the courtier's fur. Blood clouded the water, and small cleaning fish from the walls swam to dispose of the perceived garbage. Aboshan's weapon pulled free of the seal's neck muscles. An electric shock surged into the school, sending the selkie into a series of convulsions as the fish died and floated toward the dome's roof. Hidden guardians appeared momentarily as they struck at the ascending food. The cephalid gripped the seal and pulled him closer, his suckers marking the hide as the frozen selkie quivered in fear.
"The land dwellers have held the keys to the past for long enough. We shall gather hold of power and harness it to our own purposes." He moved his tentacles, and the fur began to tear free of the muscle beneath. "If you are unable to oversee the care of our treasure, then arrange with the Cabal Patriarch for workers to come here. Now go, and let it be done."
The emperor swam back to his throne as the selkie floated, then talked excitably to an aide, which left.
"Even air breathing swimmers are incompetent," Aboshan said to himself.
He regretted asking for workers from the Cabal. However, the preservation of fetishes and totems were unknown in the undersea kingdom. Most objects of power were living organisms. The care of dead magic was a rare art.
The doors against the wall opened suddenly, a wave of ink surging into the room. The current began to flow faster, pumping more of the darkness among the courtiers.
"Guards, defend your emperor!" Aboshan ordered as he called up power. Huge cuttlefish moved through the doorway, their sides flashed colors so quickly that the eye was uncertain of their shade from one moment to the next. More ink gushed from them, moving into the crowd.
The darkness coiled evilly through the water, its touch paralyzing those who could not evade it. The selkie swam for the upper openings only to contact a trailing cloud. It went into convulsions. Bubbles rose from its frame as it lost control of its body and the spell allowing it to breathe. The seal drowned in seconds, its lungs full of water and then poison.
Sea warriors swarmed through the doors, their skin covered in a translucent gel protecting them from the ink. Their spears and tridents started to work at the crowd as the emperor readied himself for battle.
The throne room's hidden guards responded, surging from the crevices and crannies that lined the walls. Octopi weighing hundreds of pounds jetted toward the cuttlefish.
Their long arms wrapped over the animals' heads as the attackers tried to escape, their hides flaring with panic. Huge moray eels swam out, their jaws closing over the waists and limbs of the attacking mer. However, illusions swam into being, misleading the beasts' strikes as the invaders continued toward the emperor.
A school of barracuda swept through the upper exits to the open ocean. Directed by exterior guards, they flew into the invaders before the cephalids could react. Limbs separated as the living knives carved apart the attackers and a few of the paralyzed victims. The fish flexed wildly, smashing into the walls in explosions of gore as the diluted ink destroyed their ability to control their direction.
Aboshan gestured with his trident, and the current reversed. The water's speed intensified, and the ink flowed to the outside. The paralyzed courtiers and the bodies of the slain swirled out through the gates. The emperor stopped as he realized his spell prevented reinforcements from reaching the throne room. Two attackers had survived every counterattack and closed on the throne, their weapons raised for regicide.
Aboshan swam toward one, his trident focusing his will. Water surged again but in a much narrower area. A thin liquid thread cut through the rebel's upraised weapon and the merman's torso. The jet dispersed blood and flesh in a huge cloud rolling toward the walls. The ruler turned, his weapon meeting his last attacker. They locked tines, the tridents contesting for supremacy.
Aboshan forced the rebel down, rolling the cephalid and disorienting him. He grabbed the helpless throat, his magic crowding through the enemy's body, rendering him helpless. Reinforcements came through the gates and the upper works, unable to find any living enemies. A few guards began gathering up the paralyzed, hauling them away to the healers for care and antidotes.
The emperor turned the rebel's head from side to side, studying it in hope of recognition, but he could not remember him. He shook the slack body violently, the eyes suddenly opening in shock and surprise. Aboshan laughed as the rush of surviving sent him into a manic mood.
"Who sent you?" he cried into the still face. "Who is behind this treachery?"
The monarch eased his magical grip on the merman's nerves, and his victim gasped and grimaced as he regained some control.