The Deep
Page 9
“I don’t think so,” answers Conor easily. “It’s a tough scramble down for her, and that paw isn’t right yet. She’ll be better off staying up here.”
Sadie had a thorn in her paw yesterday. I took it out and dressed her paw with antiseptic, but she’s still making a big fuss about it, limping around and wallowing in our sympathy.
“All right then,” says Mum. “Look after yourselves. I’ll ask Roger to bring back some burgers.”
She smiles at us. Suddenly I realize why she looks different. Mum isn’t so thin anymore. She’s lost that pinched look. Her face is rounder…happier….
The cove glitters with morning sunshine. The sand’s flat and hard where the tide has gone out. We leave our shoes and the bag with towels and spare clothes up on the rocks, above the tide line, and walk in bare feet over the cold sand. I follow Conor’s Man Friday footprints. We’re the only people here, and it feels as if we’re the only people in the world. Neat little waders walk along the sand, looking at us curiously but without fear. There are frills of seaweed, pearly little shells, and then a tangle of oarweed and plastic twine. Above us the cliffs loom, as old and hoary as dinosaurs. There’s a smell of salt and weed and coconut blowing from the gorse on the cliffs.
The whole beautiful morning belongs to us. For a moment I wish we could go back in time, two years back, before we even knew that Ingo existed. We’d play cricket on the hard sand, with a piece of driftwood for a bat and a ball that Conor brought down in his pocket. We’d swim and explore the caves, and I could make a mermaid in the sand, with seaweed hair and shells for eyes. Life was so easy then, or at least it seems easy when you look back. Maybe it wasn’t at the time. I used to hate it when Mum and Dad argued. I used to pull the duvet right over my head and sing to myself so I didn’t have to hear them.
But time has moved on. My last sand mermaid was washed away two years ago. I wouldn’t make another now that I know the Mer are real.
I am sure that Faro will be out there somewhere in the bright sea, waiting for us, and he is. As soon as I call his name, Ingo seems to race to meet me. Faro’s dark head gleams above the waves at the mouth of the cove. He swims in quickly, his tail driving him faster than any human could swim. His face shines with salt water and laughter. It doesn’t seem to have hurt him much to come through the skin to meet us.
“Faro!”
He lifts a hand in welcome, cuts through the crest of a wave, and swirls to a stop where we stand waist deep in water. The sea doesn’t feel cold today. The waves are fresh and alive, pushing against us, wanting us to play. Faro swims round us, lifts his tail, thwacks it down flat on the water, and soaks us in spray.
“Good morning, little sister. Good morning, Conor.” He smiles, showing teeth that are just a little whiter and more regular than human teeth ever could be.
“Give me five,” says Conor. Faro doesn’t know what this means, so Conor shows him, and Faro’s delighted. He keeps on going, “Give me five,” and slapping hands. You can tell he can’t wait to try it on the other Mer. Maybe it’ll become the new cool Mer thing to do.
And then it’s the best moment of all. We look at one another and decide without words that it’s time. Time for Ingo.
I watch the waves. That’s the one. I gauge its height as it rises to meet me, and I dive into the cool green hollow beneath its crest.
The wave never breaks. I am in Ingo, and the waves go on forever. I follow the wave down, plunging through its green and turquoise curves, close to the white sand. I swim out, and the water above me grows deeper as the sand shelves, and then the seabed drops away. I’m at the entrance of the cove. I follow the distant gleam on the sand, down into the deep water.
We are in Ingo. Conor and Faro are behind me, side by side. I glance back over my shoulder. Conor doesn’t look as if he’s struggling. Maybe he’s been able to let go of the Air more easily this time. His color is good. He hasn’t got the tinge of blue around his mouth that frightens me so much because it means he’s not getting enough oxygen from the water. Faro’s helping him, of course.
Ingo. Ingo. I reach out my arms, and the sea rushes into them. Ingo welcomes us. Myrgh kerenza. I don’t hear the words, but I feel them. Dad called me his myrgh kerenza, his dear daughter, and I was angry with him. If I’m so dear, then why did you leave me? Why did you abandon us without a word? But I’m Ingo’s daughter for sure.
Yes, Conor’s strong in Ingo today, flying through the water side by side with Faro. The water feels so fresh and alive, teeming with bubbles, as if spring has come in Ingo too.
“Close your eyes, Sapphire,” says Faro.
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I close my eyes. Now I can feel how fast we’re really traveling, in the westward current Faro has found for us.
“Hold tight.”
And then it begins. The current starts to spin us over and over, like leaves in a waterfall. Whirling onward, downward, so fast that even my thoughts fly out of me and I’m free of everything but the rush of water. But it’s not frightening. It’s like being lifted beyond everything you’ve ever believed you can do.
And then we’re there. The current spills us onto the sand. I recognize this place. The Groves of Aleph, still devastated by the breaking of the Tide Knot.
The Groves are littered with boulders, debris, and dead things. But look, there are shoots of green growing out of the torn stumps. These underwater trees still have life in them. They’re growing back. The destruction doesn’t look quite so brutal now that a little time has softened it. Ingo can heal itself; I know it can, if it’s given time.
But that’s not going to happen. The feeling of spring is a delusion. Winter is coming, not summer. Those green shoots will shrivel. A long winter of pain and suffering and darkness will cover Ingo like a rolling tide. The Kraken is awake, and he’s hungry. Ervys said that all the destruction we’ve already seen is just a shadow of what the Kraken is capable of doing.
Ingo has never seemed so beautiful to me as it does today, and it has never seemed so vulnerable.
“How did we get here without passing through the sharks?” asks Conor.
“They haven’t returned yet,” says Faro, as if this is bad news. “Saldowr is not yet strong enough to call them back to him.”
Faro speaks with absolute confidence that Saldowr will grow strong again. But I remember the dismissive way Ervys spoke of Saldowr, as if he was already finished. Even to think of it makes me hot and angry. Who does Ervys think he is, to speak of Saldowr like that? I want to see Saldowr so much, even though I’m afraid that he’ll be changed and weakened.
“Is he going to come out to us?” asks Conor. That’s what Saldowr did before.
“Saldowr is in his cave,” says Faro.
“But the cave was all filled with sand after the Tide Knot broke.”
“I cleared it,” says Faro.
“You cleared it! On your own?” asks Conor. He looks at Faro with respect. We both remember what Saldowr’s cave looked like after the tides ripped through the Groves. The cave mouth was completely blocked with sand. Faro must have worked for hours—days….
“Yes, I cleared it alone,” says Faro proudly. “Who else should serve Saldowr? I am Saldowr’s scolhyk and his holyer. Who else should take care of him and restore to him what is his? If everyone abandons him, I will not abandon him. And soon the sharks will return, and everything will be as it was.”
“Do they have to?” I say.
“Of course,” says Faro severely. “You must understand, Sapphire, that there have always been sharks to guard the Groves of Aleph.”
“They weren’t a great success as guardians, though, were they?” asks Conor. “It might be time to try something else.”
Faro ignores this. “We must not keep Saldowr waiting,” he says.
“But I thought we couldn’t go into the cave. Last time we were here, Saldowr said—”
“He cannot move. There is no other way.”
The weed that used to sway gently over the mouth of Saldowr’s cave, hiding it, has all been stripped away by the tides. It hasn’t had time to grow back yet. There’s enough light to see by as Faro swims ahead of us toward the back of the cave.
I expected Saldowr’s cave to be magnificent, with glittering sea jewels set into the walls and a high vaulted roof and maybe a carpet of mother-of-pearl. But it’s not like that at all. It’s completely plain. The walls are granite; the floor is sand. It reminds me of somewhere else, but I can’t remember where.
On a shelf of smooth rock at the back of the cave, Saldowr lies. His hair flows out in the water. It has grown longer and grayer since we last saw him. His cloak is wrapped tightly around his body, as if he’s cold. Deep in their sockets, his eyes glow through the gloom.
“Welcome,” he says. “I have been waiting for you. Come closer.”
We swim toward him. In the green dimness his face is haggard. He stretches out his hand to me, and I clasp it. I can feel his bones.
“Saldowr.”
“Yes, my child. I’m not a pretty sight, am I?”
“Are you ill?”
“The wound that the keystone gave me refuses to heal. Conor, give me your hand.”
I move back and let Conor take Saldowr’s hand.
“My dear son,” he says, and I catch a flash of feeling on Faro’s face. Is he jealous? “We have work to do. Much work to do, and little time to do it. You know that the Kraken is awake.”
A shiver runs down my back. “Yes,” I say.
“And you, my child, have visited the Deep, and so the Mer are hungry for you. They believe that you can help them against the Kraken.”
How strange. Saldowr talks of the Mer as “they,” as if they are separate from him. I’m sure he never used to do that.
Saldowr’s eyes search my face. How different he is from Ervys. Saldowr is not hungry for me. He doesn’t see me as a means to an end. To Saldowr I am still Sapphire. Myself.
“Will you do it?” he goes on casually, as if it’s not even an important decision.
Conor puts his hand on my arm. “Saph won’t go alone,” he says.
“But Conor, you know that you cannot enter the Deep.” He still speaks lightly, but there’s expectancy in his face too, as if he’s testing Conor, waiting to see what his reaction will be.
“Who says so?”
Conor’s challenge echoes through the cave. Saldowr nods, as if this is the answer he’s been looking for. “You healed the keystone,” he says. “You read its runes. If your spirit is still as strong, nothing is impossible. But now, Conor, show me what you have in your pocket.”
Conor’s as startled as I am. I knew he’d have brought Elvira’s talisman. I don’t think he’s been separated from it since I gave it to him. But how did Saldowr know? Can he sense its presence, as Sadie can? Slowly Conor puts his hand into his pocket and draws out the talisman.
“Bring it closer.”
Saldowr studies the talisman but doesn’t touch it.
“You can hold it if you want,” says Conor.
“No, no. A talisman joins its fortune to its keeper. Don’t let anyone else touch it, Conor, now that it has come into your hands, or its power will weaken. Who carved this?”
“Elvira.”
“Hmm. And what do you see in it?”
“It’s one of the Mer, diving.”
“And?”
“He has my face.”
“He hasn’t, Conor,” I break in. “You’re imagining it. Look, the face is blank, isn’t it, Saldowr?”
I want Saldowr to support me and make Conor stop seeing things that only he can see. I don’t want Elvira to have the power to carve my brother into a piece of coral.
Saldowr turns his gaze to me. “A talisman joins its fortune to its owner,” he repeats mildly. “But you need a chain, Conor, so you can wear it openly.”
“I’m going to get one.”
Saldowr snaps his fingers, and immediately Faro is at his side. “Search at the foot of my couch,” he orders. Faro dives to the foot of the couch, and a few moments later he comes up with a gold chain in his hand.
“I thought the Mer never took treasure,” I blurt out.
Saldowr raises his eyebrows. “This is not treasure,” he says. “It belongs to Conor. Look, Conor.”
Conor gasps, and then I see why. I recognize the chain. “It’s Dad’s,” Conor breathes. “It’s the chain for his ring.”
Dad never wore his wedding ring on his finger. He didn’t like the feel of it. Sometimes he wore it on a chain around his neck. Not always, but he must have been wearing it that night.
“You are right. It is your father’s. The Mer do not wear gold,” says Saldowr, “and so your father gave it to me. He will be glad of this use, and I think the chain will fit the talisman perfectly.”
Conor says nothing, but I can tell he’s reluctant to take the chain. It’s like—it’s like inheriting something after a death. But where’s the ring? Where’s Dad’s wedding ring?
“Saldowr,” I say hesitantly, “you said that my father gave you the chain, but—but—”
“You want to know what happened to the ring,” states Saldowr calmly.
“Yes.”
“He gave it also into my safekeeping.”
My heart lurches. Mum doesn’t wear her wedding ring anymore either. She keeps it in a box.
“You can trust me with it,” says Saldowr gently, and I nod, biting my lip. Saldowr turns to Conor.
“Your father would like you to have the chain,” he says, and with sudden decision Conor takes the chain, puts on the talisman, and fastens it around his neck. Saldowr was right. It fits perfectly.
“And did no one give you a talisman, Sapphire?” asks Saldowr.
I stare at him blankly. “No. Elvira only carved this one.”
“So you have nothing? No protection? No secret gift?”
“No,” I say, and I mean it and believe it until a moment after the words have left my mouth. No secret gift. But there’s the spray of rowanberries hidden in my jeans pocket. Not even Conor knows about that. It’s not a talisman; it’s just—just rowanberries.
All the same, I feel myself flush as Saldowr keeps looking steadily at me. “I see,” he says at last. “In that case Conor’s protection must cover you both. And where is he diving to, Conor?”
The tiny carved figure seems to hypnotize us all. He is so lithe, so powerful, and so fearless. Diving down, down, down, through the bright seas of Ingo and then where the water grows dark and the weight of the ocean makes his body as thin as a sheet of paper and as heavy as lead…
“To the Deep,” says Conor.
CHAPTER NINE
“TO THE DEEP,” REPEATS Saldowr. He shifts his body slightly, as if he’s in pain.
“Saldowr, your wound—isn’t it healing?”
“No, my child. Not yet.”
“But it will,” I say. “It’s got to. Can’t you see a different healer?” Conor nudges me, but he can’t stop me. “You’re not going to—” “You mean is it my time to go to Limina? No. I don’t think so. I have things I must do before that.”
He talks about it so casually. But going to Limina means dying. And how can Saldowr just let himself die?
“You cannot die, Saldowr!” says Faro fiercely. He kneels and clasps Saldowr’s left hand in his. “You are our memory. Our Guardian. You protect Ingo. You cannot leave us.”
“I’ll have no choice in the matter,” says Saldowr. “But let’s not talk of death. We are here now, and our tasks are urgent. That’s what we must discuss.”
His voice sounds stronger. Of course he’s going to recover. I look at Conor questioningly, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod. It’s time. The plan that began to shape in my mind back in the
Assembly chamber is fully formed. Conor and I talked it over for hours last night. He said I’d have to be the one to propose it to Saldowr, though.
“I can’t do it for you, Saph. You’re the one who’s visited the Deep.”
“But Conor, you’re much better at talking than I am. You can make people listen.”
“No, Saph. You’re the one who’s been dragging both of us deeper and deeper into Ingo. You can’t hide behind me now. You’ve got the bargaining power, and they know it.”
It must be tough for Conor to say that, I thought. He’s used to being the leader. I don’t think it’s fair to say I hide behind him, but it’s true that I usually wait for him to do things first, and he’s often the one who speaks up for both of us. Dragging him into Ingo, though…What about Elvira and her talisman? Hmm…maybe it wasn’t the moment to mention it.
“You could pretend Saldowr was Roger,” suggested Conor. “You don’t usually have a problem with giving poor old Roger a mouthful.”
Poor old Roger! Hasn’t Conor got eyes in his head? I thought. Roger’s got exactly what he wants: Mum. I’m certainly not going to pity him. But showing heroic tact, I said nothing.
It was much easier to make plans in St. Piran’s than it is to carry them out. I don’t want to risk Saldowr’s anger any more than I’d want to risk Granny Carne’s. I spoke up in the Assembly chamber. I stood my ground against Ervys. But now that I’m face-to-face with Saldowr, it’s hard to explain the bargain I want to make with the Mer. Saldowr is so clear and straight-seeing, like a crystal pool that makes everything else look muddy. Maybe in his eyes my plan will look like blackmail. But it isn’t; I know it isn’t. If we want to rescue Dad, this is probably the only chance. We can’t miss it.
I listen while Faro explains to Saldowr about the Assembly. Saldowr’s face gives nothing away. Even though Faro doesn’t mention Ervys’s disrespect, I have the feeling that Saldowr knows quite well that Ervys is against him and trying to gain power among the Mer.
All he says is: “I see that Ervys has become the voice of the Mer,” and there’s a cool humor in his voice that makes me feel a little better. Ervys may think that Saldowr is helpless because he’s lying here wounded, but he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.