“Do you think the mermaid took him?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Tony,” Cico said and knit his brow, “there’s a lot of things I don’t know. But never go to the Hidden Lakes alone, Tony, never. It’s not safe.”
I nodded that I would honor his warning. “It is so strange,” I said, “the things that happen. The things that I have seen, or heard about.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“These things of the water, the mermaid, the golden carp. They are strange. There is so much water around the town, the river, the creek, the lakes—”
Cico leaned back and stared into the bright sky. “This whole land was once covered by a sea, a long time ago—”
“My name means sea,” I pondered aloud.
“Hey, that’s right,” he said, “Márez means sea, it means you came from the ocean, Tony Márez arisen from the sea—”
“My father says our blood is restless, like the sea—”
“That is beautiful,” he said. He laughed. “You know, this land belonged to the fish before it belonged to us. I have no doubt about the prophecy of the golden carp. He will come to rule again!”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What do I mean?” Cico asked quizzically. “I mean that the golden carp will come to rule again. Didn’t Samuel tell you?”
“No,” I shook my head.
“Well he told you about the people who killed the carp of the river and were punished by being turned into fish themselves. After that happened, many years later, a new people came to live in this valley. And they were no better than the first inhabitants, in fact they were worse. They sinned a lot, they sinned against each other, and they sinned against the legends they knew. And so the golden carp sent them a prophecy. He said that the sins of the people would weigh so heavy upon the land that in the end the whole town would collapse and be swallowed by water—”
I must have whistled in exclamation and sighed.
“Tony,” Cico said, “this whole town is sitting over a deep, underground lake! Everybody knows that. Look.” He drew on the sand with a stick. “Here’s the river. The creek flows up here and curves into the river. The Hidden Lakes complete the other border. See?”
I nodded. The town was surrounded by water. It was frightening to know that! “The whole town!” I whispered in amazement.
“Yup,” Cico said, “the whole town. The golden carp has warned us that the land cannot take the weight of the sins—the land will finally sink!”
“But you live in town!” I exclaimed.
He smiled and stood up. “The golden carp is my god, Tony. He will rule the new waters. I will be happy to be with my god—”
It was unbelievable, and yet it made a wild kind of sense! All the pieces fit!
“Do the people of the town know?” I asked anxiously.
“They know,” he nodded, “and they keep on sinning.”
“But it’s not fair to those who don’t sin!” I countered.
“Tony,” Cico said softly, “all men sin.”
I had no answer to that. My own mother had said that losing your innocence and becoming a man was learning to sin. I felt weak and powerless in the knowledge of the impending doom.
“When will it happen?” I asked.
“No one knows,” Cico answered. “It could be today, tomorrow, a week, a hundred years—but it will happen.”
“What can we do?” I asked. I heard my voice tremble.
“Sin against no one,” Cico answered.
I walked away from that haven which held the pond and the swimming waters of the golden carp feeling a great weight in my heart. I was saddened by what I had learned. I had seen beauty, but the beauty had burdened me with responsibility. Cico wanted to fish at the dam, but I was not in the mood for it. I thanked him for letting me see the golden carp, crossed the river, and trudged up the hill homeward.
I thought about telling everyone in town to stop their sinning, or drown and die. But they would not believe me. How could I preach to the whole town, I was only a boy. They would not listen. They would say I was crazy, or bewitched by Ultima’s magic.
I went home and thought about what I had seen and the story Cico told. I went to Ultima and told her the story. She said nothing. She only smiled. It was as if she knew the story and found nothing fantastic or impending in it. “I would have told you the story myself,” she nodded wisely, “but it is better that you hear the legend from someone your own age…”
“Am I to believe the story?” I asked. I was worried.
“Antonio,” she said calmly and placed her hand on my shoulder, “I cannot tell you what to believe. Your father and your mother can tell you, because you are their blood, but I cannot. As you grow into manhood you must find your own truths—”