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“You could describe it better,” Dorma complained.
Namor threw up his hands in frustration. “I told you it’s difficult to describe! They do not think like we think.”
“So Ambrose’s thoughts are just too smart for you, then,” Dorma replied with a toothy grin.
“Ugh!”
The two children had been meandering around the palace with little to do. Emperor Tha-korr had called a meeting with the council so Namor and Dorma had free reign of most of the halls, but they had grown quickly bored of their standard games. They could always go out to the courtyards as long as they were with a guard, but Byrrah and his friends were probably still there playing their game and Namor didn’t feel like putting up with his cousin’s taunts today. To occupy their time, Dorma had asked Namor to explain how his creature telepathy worked, since he’d never gone over it despite the ability manifesting years ago. That was what led Namor to his current challenge of detailing how an overgrown goldfish thought, or rather didn’t think.
He was almost certain that Dorma already knew how the telepathy worked and was just humoring him. The ability was rare among Atlanteans, but plenty of scholars had chronicled the use of the power throughout their post-Cataclysm existence. Creature telepathy was rather rare even today, though other abilities like camouflaging and echolocation were common enough, especially in such a populated capital city like Atlantis. Dorma was advancing quickly in her studies and one of her mothers was a scholar herself; she’d probably already read the tomes on the different ability manifestations. Despite it all, Namor still wanted to impress her. The two had been friends for years now, yet Namor still sometimes felt like Dorma just pitied the half-breed prince enough to befriend him.
Arms crossed and pouting, he searched for the words that would explain what he could pick up from the creatures’ minds. “It’s usually just a feeling, their thoughts will just be something like ‘hungry’ or ‘flee.’ Sometimes it’s like music—like a song that has no words but the tune makes sense. Mammals have clearer thoughts.”
Dorma tilted her head, thoughtful. “Like whales?”
“Yes, and dolphins. They’re very chatty…where are you going?”
She was already making her way down the hall to where some of the guards were posted. “I’m going to ask if we can go outside the city,” she called.
Namor rushed to catch up to her. “No! They’ll ask Byrrah if he wants to come, too.” Namor was the crown prince, but his cousin had a lot of leeway because of his grandfather’s favor and his full Atlantean status.
Dorma wrinkled her nose. “Okay…what if we ask your mother?”
“She’s with grandfather and the council right now,” he replied.
She looked back at where her goldfish companion was still floating by the balcony. “We could just take Ambrose.”
Namor gave her a look. “He’s a fish.”
“A very smart fish, whose thoughts you can’t describe.”
The prince’s face scrunched up in a rather unprincely manner. “Why do you even want to go outside the city?”
Her dark eyes were shrewd. “You’ll see. Don’t you trust me?”
He did. Dorma was one of the few people who didn’t outwardly treat him with disgust or cover up their dislike with royal courtesy. She was probably the closest friend he had. “Yes…okay fine, let’s go.”
The three of them escaped through the balcony and made their way over the residential area of Atlantis, heading toward the western border that typically had fewer guards. They made good time even while swimming higher above the city than usual to avoid being spotted. Namor was grateful he wasn’t being slowed down by that ache in his ankles today, it had been flaring up more frequently in the past month and he honestly had no idea what was causing it.
In retrospect, they should have known that the palace guards would not take their eyes off them so easily—Namor might have been a half-human, but royal blood was fiercely protected. They were just about to pass the main city border when someone cleared their throat behind them.
“Out for a leisurely swim, children?” Argos greeted them, one of few royal guards who would address Namor so casually. Namor had last seen him conversing with court members back at the palace, which meant he’d been following them the whole time since their “escape.”
Dorma spoke up first. “Yes, we thought to get Ambrose some kelp, there’s a farm not far from the residential border.”
“We have a great many food vendors within the inner city, young lady,” Argos responded.
“He has a special diet,” she said, tilting her chin up.
“And we wouldn’t want to waste city resources on a fish,” Namor ventured, ignoring Dorma’s glare.
Argos barked a laugh and went back to his customary smile, “You will make a good king yet, my prince.” Namor was relieved to see him drop the stoic charade. He had known Argos since he was a small child; the man had been transferred from Fen’s guard unit to Namor’s and was affable even at the worst of times. “Will you humor an old man and tell me where you are actually going?”
Dorma put on her charming speaking-to-high-ranking-Atlanteans-voice, “You’re not that old, General. I’m sure you’re around Mother and Mama’s age. You know, Mama was actually talking about when you two were in the same unit back in—”
“Little lady. Answer the question.”
Her shoulders slumped. “We wanted to go see the whales. I heard the blue ones show up when the farmers release the krill.”
“What?” Namor asked her, baffled.
“You said the way mammals think is clearer, and I don’t need your ability to hear their songs. I thought it would be fun to listen to them together,” she told him.
Namor didn’t know what to say. He could hardly believe Dorma would go out of her way to understand this part of him, but he felt delight wash over him all the same.
Argos’ expression had softened into something that was almost fatherly. “Alright, you can go as far as the kelp farms and no further. And leave the creatures be, it won’t do to disturb them like the surfacers do.”
“Thank you, Argos!” They chorused and turned to swim to their destination, a cheerful Ambrose in tow.
As the two Atlanteans settled down to wait and Ambrose went over to munch on his special kelp, Namor told Dorma softly, “You could have just said.”
“I wanted to surprise you. And you wanted to leave the palace as much as I did,” she said. They were close enough to the surface now that some sunlight was able to filter down. It glinted over the dark red of Dorma’s hair and the deep blue of her skin. Namor thought of how bright everything was on the surface, the few times he’d gone; this light was much kinder.
“You’ll have to show me your abilities, next time,” he said.
She was looking out toward the open ocean, a smile playing at her mouth. “I don’t have any.”
“That’s not true. Your grandfather was a mage, and you said you could almost hear the music the mages talk about when we visited their temples the last time. We could ask them for lessons,” he was grinning now, excitement palpable. “Imagine if we could meet Sycorax!”
She was grinning too, the both of them giddy with thought of the future. Namor was brought back to the present when he heard the song, in his mind first and then his ears. He tilted his head. “They’re almost here.”
“The blue ones?” Dorma whispered despite not needing to.
“Yes, I can always hear them easiest.”
The two sat in silence as the whales came into view and their song drifted over them. Even though Namor had seen them plenty times before, the sheer size of them astonished him once again. He understood why many saw them as sacred; some religious texts depicted whales as protectors sent by Mother Cleito herself.
Their song brought a sense of calm to him as it always did. He turned to his friend. “What do they sound like?”
Dorma was watching the creatures with undisguised wonder. “Like they’re happy.” She looked at him, the affection not leaving her eyes. “Am I right?”
“Yes,” he said, feeling the same.