Kurt shuffles the papers like a card deck until he finds the ones

he’s looking for. “You’re looking for easy answers, and the search for

the truth is never easy.”

“Did some psychic tell you that?”

“No,” he says, “my father taught me that.”

“Oh.” My foot tastes rather nasty.

“Forget it. Look at this,” he says. He’s so happy with these

papers that he’s finally stopped wondering where Thalia is. “The

trident is one object. It’s been thousands of years since they were

three separate pieces and our kingdoms were three corresponding

factions. Each king wielded a different part of the trident. The

quartz scepter, the center staff, and the trident fork. It says here

that our people were at war so often that one of the oracle sisters

proposed a final championship to unite all three kingdoms as one.”

“Are these them?”

“Yes. These are the original kings.”

“These dudes are no joke. What’s with the animals?”

“My teacher told me of this,” Gwen says. “Back then, the kings

believed their strengths were linked to animal spirits. The sleeping

giants, they called them. It was long ago, but if I remember

correctly, this was Kleos, the eldest king. He wielded the quartz

scepter you have now.”

Kurt seems impressed but lingers on her for too long. “Who was he,

your teacher?”

“ She ,” Gwen says, “was of my court. We’ve always had more

mermaids as elders than the mermen of the court. She rather liked

Kleos here.” She taps a finger on his gold-leafed face.

Kleos is drawn with a mane of brown hair, blue eyes, and the

slightest hint of a smile. He’s sitting on a sea horse whose long

snout is in the middle of neighing. Do sea horses neigh? There’s a

kingly quality in the way Kleos holds the scepter over his head,

conjuring a wave and a stroke of lightning.

“This is Ellanos,” Kurt says, pointing to another dude. “He was

the one who used the blood and ink of the cephalopods to give us legs.

He believed he’d conquered the gods who wanted to keep us in the

ocean. It made him powerful, despite having the center staff, which

alone is the weakest part. But without it, there would be no trident.”

Ellanos’s hair and eyes are filled in with the blackest ink. His

skin is red and his jewels are etched in gold. At his feet is a giant

octopus, one tentacle wrapped around Ellanos’s ankle.

“Is that thing still alive?”

“Yes. It lives in the king’s private chambers in the Glass

Castle.”

I point at Ellanos. It’s like looking at the Greek exhibit at the

Met with all the broken vases and plates. “Doesn’t he look like Adaro

to you guys?”

“That’s because Adaro’s family are direct descendants,” Kurt says.

“As you are of this king, Trianos, who wielded the forked tip of the

trident.”

Trianos looks much like my grandfather. The big white mane of

hair. I wonder if it was ever another color. The skin is like gold.

His eyes are carefully inked in a deep violet. He stands firmly on the

back of a turtle. The turtle isn’t one of the cute slow things at the

aquarium. This turtle’s shell has hard ridges. There’s anger in its

eyes, power in its limbs. I like this turtle.

There’s another paper that’s so thin and black that it breaks

apart at the edges where I pull it. “I think someone tried to burn

this one.”

This one shows the trident put back together. I trace the outline

of the familiar shape of the quartz scepter. There’s text all over it,

but it’s in a different language.

“I’m not familiar with these symbols. It shows the way the three

are meant to be one. The three-pronged tip and the quartz fit in

either end of the staff, which is a catalyst for the two.”

“How did one oracle decide there shouldn’t be three kings anymore?

I thought they just see stuff.” I know quite well they do more than

see. The memory of the nautilus maid makes me shiver.

“There is no mention of how that decision came to pass. There is

only a mention that it happened.”

I tug on my chin, surprised at the fresh stubble. “Remind me to

thank Greg for giving us an old piece of paper with hieroglyphics.

Gwen?”

She’s surprised when I say her name, like snapping out of a

trance. “By the seas, I don’t know where to begin. I believe-” Her

eyes flick to Kurt as she hesitates. “I believe this is the language

of the oracles.”

“They get their own language?”

“It’s not their language,” Gwen says smirking. “It’s the language

of the gods. Their purpose is to translate it. Send some poor soul to

war and another to murder his children. That’s why humans have always

sought them.”

“I wonder if my mom would know. Greg did teach her once. Maybe he

knew she’d look at it.” The kitchen clock marks just past five. My dad

would usually be home by now, and my mom would be yelling at me for

tracking sand all over the rugs after finishing my lifeguard shift.

“Good,” Gwen says. “Why don’t you summon her?”

“You don’t summon your parents.”

“When you’re king, you can,” Kurt says, pointing at the drawing of

Kleos grasping the quartz scepter. If he could wield it as one piece,

then maybe so can I.

“Why does your face look like that?” Gwen says.

“Ah,” Kurt says smartly. “I believe Tristan is thinking .”

I pull the quartz scepter from the leather harness. The gold is

cold. Orange sunset light fills the crystal and kaleidoscopes against

the kitchen walls. “Let’s see what I can learn from King Kleos.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Gwen asks, lounging on a

rickety old chair.

From the rooftop of my building, you can see for miles. Behind us

there’s Brooklyn-brownstones and the handball court, Carvel ice cream,

and even the church by Layla’s house. Before us are the Wonder Wheel

and the beach and farther out the horizon where my grandfather is

waiting for me to show up with this thing that I’m holding. The quartz

scepter.

“This may be the best idea he’s had since I met him,” Kurt says.

The dusty gold is cool in my hands. I’m holding it over my head

like a sword, the pointy quartz part up in the air.

“Trust me.” And even if they don’t trust me, I’m sure they’re not

going anywhere. “I need to learn to use it.”

“It says here that Kleos was the light that shook the earth.” Kurt

reads off some crap about channeling some powers within. The strength

of blah, blah, blah self.

His voice actually helps, because I can concentrate on blocking it

out.

All I want to feel is my heart pounding and the current-ancient

and strong-sizzling its way all over my body. It’s what I imagine the

third rail in the subway would feel like if I touched it, minus the

electrocution part. I shut my eyes and imagine lightning crashing

across the horizon the day of the first storm. I remember the strength

of the wave clamping down on me with the full force of the sea. The

crackle of thunder. The whip of the wind.

It’s all inside me.

Kurt’s scream follows a sharp blast. Above us is a single black

cloud. It cracks open with a spurt of lightning, crashing directly

into the cluster of satellite dishes on the roof. The cloud vanishes

like smoke against the sunset sky.

“That was killer, man.” My hands are buzzing.

“Just don’t kill me ,” Kurt says.

“You have to get yourself one of these.”

“I can’t. It’s one of a kind.”

Unlike the other times, the light of the quartz is still blazing.

I feel a thrill go through me, and it must be linked to the scepter