The Deep

by Helen Dunmore

  At last, when Faro has explained everything, there’s silence. Saldowr closes his eyes, thinking deeply. How worn and old his face is. There are hollows under his cheekbones.

  We’re all gazing at him, longing for an answer. I haven’t mentioned my bargain yet. Somehow I can’t bring myself to do it.

  Saldowr’s cave is still. Even the breaking of the Tide Knot hasn’t completely shattered an atmosphere of peace that feels as if it’s taken centuries to gather. Saldowr rules here, no matter how weak he is, and the tides are home again, safe under their rock, sealed by the keystone.

  “There’s no answer to the power of the Kraken,” says Saldowr at last, opening his eyes. Conor frowns in disappointment.

  “We can’t just let a monster do what he wants!”

  “Did I say that we would? But although we may return the Kraken to sleep, we will never change him. He is not like you, capable of change for good or for evil. He may seem to alter; but his nature is fixed, and that is the Kraken’s tragedy.”

  I’m not interested in feeling sorry for the Kraken. “Well, that’s all we want to do, isn’t it?” I ask. “Put him back to sleep, I mean. As long as he’s asleep, he can’t do any harm.”

  Saldowr smiles faintly. “You are right. I was talking of evil and how it can never be finally defeated. You are speaking, very reasonably, of the present crisis. Are you willing to go to the Deep, myrgh kerenza, knowing what you know of it?”

  Now is my moment. Now’s the time to set out my bargain. But instead I look into Saldowr’s eyes. I stop thinking of Dad. A different picture rises in my mind. A Mer woman with a child in her arms, weeping as if her heart will break. I can’t see the woman’s face because her hair swirls around her features. The child looks bewildered, and he’s patting his mother’s face, trying to calm her.

  I hear myself saying, “Yes, Saldowr.”

  “Good.” His eyes gleam, and I have a sudden suspicion that he knows all about the bargain.

  “But Saldowr—”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m choosing, aren’t I? It’s a free choice. I don’t have to go.”

  “No one can make you, my child. Not Ervys and all his followers.”

  “But you will go, Sapphire,” Faro breaks in. “You are Mer in your heart. You want to help us. You won’t let the children be—”

  Saldowr’s brow wrinkles faintly, and Faro is silent.

  “It was a free choice,” he answers me.

  I take a deep breath. Now that I’ve agreed, I can say what I want to say. It’s not bargaining; it’s telling the truth. “But my father never had a free choice, Saldowr. He has to stay in Ingo now. The Mer say that it’s breaking their law to let him leave. But why should it be? If I can choose to help the Mer, then Dad should have the choice to stay or leave.”

  Conor moves to stand by my side. “We’re not bargaining, Saldowr. We’re not blackmailing the Mer. But our father came to Ingo, and he was never given the chance to return. I don’t believe he knew the consequences when he was drawn into Ingo by Mellina’s singing. If Sapphire and I can choose to risk our lives to help the Mer, then our father deserves that freedom as well. Otherwise he’s no more than…well, a prisoner.”

  “It sounds to me as if you are making a bargain,” says Saldowr.

  Conor’s color deepens, but he says firmly, “You can call it a bargain if you want. I call it fairness.”

  A glint of humor lights up Saldowr’s face. “Sometimes you are very human,” he says. “But think carefully about what you bargain for. You may have to live with getting what you want.”

  Why does Saldowr have to talk in riddles? I think crossly. Why can’t he just answer yes or no? We know what we want. Dad, digging the garden on a warm evening, or strolling up to the pub, or taking us out in the Peggy Gordon. Well, maybe not the Peggy Gordon, because she doesn’t exist anymore, but another boat that’s just as good. And then everything that’s happened since he went away will be just like a bad dream. We’ll put our family back together again.

  Roger wanted to get you a boat. You’ll have to do something about Roger, won’t you? says an inconvenient voice in my head. Before you put your family back together again. And you’ll need to wipe Elvira from Conor’s memory as well. And what about Faro? Do you want to lose Faro? That might be part of the bargain too.

  But I’m not going to listen. I can think about all that later. And it’s no good Faro’s looking at me like that. I’m not going to change my mind. If Dad was his father, he’d understand.

  How gloomy the cave is getting. It can’t be anywhere near evening yet, or maybe it can. Time might be flying through Ingo ten times faster than in the human world today. We could be caught by nightfall. “Conor,” I whisper, “we’ll have to hurry. It’s getting dark.”

  But Saldowr turns his head painfully and looks beyond us, toward the mouth of the cave. “You have a visitor,” he says.

  The dark is still thickening. I can hardly see Saldowr’s features. I look back at the entrance, and now I see that it isn’t night that has caused the darkness. Something’s out there, blocking the entrance to the cave.

  For a horrible moment I think it’s the Kraken. No, that’s impossible. The Kraken doesn’t leave the Deep. Maybe it’s Ervys! He and his followers have rolled rocks across the cave mouth, and we’re prisoners.

  Don’t be so stupid, Sapphire. Why would he do that? He wants you down in the Deep, not trapped in a cave.

  “What is it, Saldowr? What’s happening?” asks Conor sharply.

  “A friend of Sapphire’s has come to see her,” says Saldowr, and we can all hear the amusement in his voice. “Her kind have never ventured into the Groves before. She is rather…large to enter my cave. She wants to see you, Sapphire. No, not you others. You must wait here. You’ll have to go out to her, Sapphire. She’s waiting for you.”

  My heart leaps. There can’t be another visitor as huge as this. Can it really be her? I plunge past Faro and Conor to the cave entrance and out into the Groves.

  Sides like a rough cliff. Vast bulk of a body that’s built to voyage safely into the Deep. And looking at me from far above, with pride and recognition, her right eye.

  “Whale! Dear whale!”

  “Greetings, little barelegs.” Her voice rumbles through the water, and even though she’s barely moving, the sand on the seafloor swirls from her pressure.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  I swim up her side like a mountaineer. Her skin is grooved and carved like an elephant’s. If I didn’t know her, I’d be afraid of her. She’s so massive. One flick of her tail could easily destroy a fishing boat….

  But she wouldn’t do that. No, she’s the one who is hunted and destroyed, if the hunters get a chance. She ought to hate humans, but she helped me.

  “Ah, here you come,” rumbles the whale comfortably. “You’re no bigger than a speck of sand, but at least your mother has taught you manners. Never swim up to a whale from behind; that’s not the way. It makes us nervous. Here you come, and now I’ve lost you. Where are you, little barelegs?”

  “By your…I think I’m by your chin.”

  “Up you come, that’s the way. Dear me, can’t you swim any faster than that? And now I’ve lost you again. It reminds me of when my own children were little and used to play hide-and-seek under my jaw.”

  “Did they?” I can’t help thinking that this must have been quite scary. What if the jaw had opened and sucked them in—by accident, of course?

  “It seems like yesterday. But they’re still my babies, no matter how big they get. The tickle of those little flukes—you never forget it.”

  “I suppose they must be quite big now?” I scull the water, keeping level so that she can see me.

  “Big enough, little barelegs. Your mother must be sad that you do not grow. You should keep your legs together, and perhaps they’ll fuse into a tail. The dolphins tell us that it could happen. It’s called evolution,” says the whale proudly.

/>   I wonder how Mum would react if she were confronted by a daughter who’d evolved into a whale. Maybe my tail could fit into the bedroom, but then the rest of me would fill the garden and go halfway to the cove—

  “I think Mum’s all right with things the way they are.”

  “She knows best, I suppose. I’d like to meet her. We’d have a lot in common, I’m sure.”

  Hard to imagine what they’d talk about, really. Mum would faint with horror if she could see me now, deep underwater, conversing with a whale. At least I think she would. On the other hand, Mum would trust this whale. She would feel the goodness in her. And I have a feeling that the whale is lonely. Her children must have all grown up and gone away. I wonder what it’s like to be so huge….

  Is Saldowr still keeping Conor and Faro back in the cave? I wish they were here. I want them to meet the whale. I stare back down her vast side, but I can’t see them. I wonder why Saldowr didn’t let them come. No one could think the whale could hurt anyone.

  I swim round until I can look directly into her eye. It’s impossible to look into both of a whale’s eyes at once—unless, I suppose, you are another whale. You’d be made on the same scale then.

  “I am glad you remember me, little one. I thought you might have forgotten.”

  “How could I possibly forget you? I’d never have got out of the Deep without you.”

  “Ah, well, we whales have certain advantages of size. It was no trouble,” says the whale, and in spite of her hugeness, she sounds shy as well as pleased.

  This is my moment.

  “Do you think—is it possible for you to help me go back to the Deep?”

  The whale’s dark, thoughtful eye considers my face. “Help you, little one? How will that help you? The Deep is no place for you. I thought you would have learned that.”

  She sounds so sure that I falter. Maybe she is right. Do I really want to find myself back in that dark, formless place where I don’t even know which way to look for the surface? If she won’t agree to take me, then I can’t go. No one can blame me. I’ll have tried.

  Don’t be so pathetic. You wouldn’t have tried. You’d just have run away. Even if the others never know, you’ll know. And think of trying to meet Saldowr’s eyes while you bleat, “I tried, I really did, but the whale wouldn’t take me.”

  “I have to go there. I don’t want to, exactly, but the Mer need me. It’s because of the children and the Kraken. You know…”

  The whale doesn’t answer. She fixes me with her eye, mild and patient and not at all convinced.

  Salt tingles on my palate. I remember what Faro said: You are Mer in your heart. Whether he’s right or not, I can feel my Mer blood rising. Words bubble on my tongue and reach my lips. “An Kraken…an Kraken…nownek. Peryl ha own… Dear whale, please help me. “

  The words tingle in my mouth like electricity. Going to the Deep is still difficult and dangerous, but it’s no longer impossible.

  “Da yw genev,” murmurs the whale, and relief pours through me. It’s agreed. She will help me.

  The whale moves her head a little. Water swirls and bowls me sideways. I swim back through the waves she’s made.

  “Maybe—please, would you mind not moving so much?”

  “Moving so much?” The whale shakes with laughter, but carefully this time, so that the water rocks but doesn’t sweep me away. “Your world must be very dull, little one, if this is moving. If only I had learned some new jokes to tell you! A basking shark told me one about an anglerfish. I wish I could remember the punch line. You should be thinking of jokes at your age, not of shadows and sorrows. Those come soon enough.” And the whale sighs.

  Jokes! This isn’t the time for jokes, especially not whale jokes. “But the Kraken—”

  “Yes, dear child,” says the whale calmly. “We whales were the first to bring the news of his waking from the Deep.”

  “But aren’t you frightened? The Kraken’s a monster!”

  “Yes, he is a monster. But what can the Kraken take from me?”

  I stare at the whale. Obviously the Kraken can take everything. Why isn’t she afraid?

  “The Mer say that Mab Avalon put the Kraken back to sleep a long time ago, and they think I can do the same. Have you ever heard of Mab Avalon?”

  “When they were young, my children used to play a game. One would pretend to be the Kraken; another would be Mab Avalon.”

  “Have you got two children?”

  “Yes. A son and a daughter.”

  “Just like me and Conor.”

  The whale makes me feel so safe and looked after. She’s like a grandma. I wish I could stay with her all day, talking and maybe traveling with her, finding out more about her family and her jokes and her secret sadness.

  “I’ve agreed to take you into the Deep,” says the whale, “but understand, little one, you’re going into danger.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you? Do you really, little barelegs? Have you ever seen the sea running red with blood?” The whale’s voice has deepened. “Understand me, little one. I’m warning you because I care for you, not because I want to frighten you.”

  Just like Mum, I think.

  “My brother will come with me. He’s got a talisman.”

  It sounds feeble, even to me. What good is a bit of carved coral against a monster who has been terrorizing Ingo for thousands of years? Clearly the whale agrees, because she ignores the talisman.

  “I will take you. Da yw genev. I will protect you as far as I am able.”

  “Thank you, dear whale. And you’ll take my brother too?”

  “Yes. I will wait here for you while you go and tell him.”

  “But—but we aren’t going to go now. We’re just finding out about it all. We’ve got to go back home and work out a plan.”

  “Are you sure?” asks the whale gently. “I think now is the time. Or never. Never is better, perhaps, little barelegs. Never is safer. If I were your mother, I would choose never for you. But if not never, little one, then it has to be now.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  NO TIME TO SEE MUM again. No time to say good-bye to Sadie. Everything’s happening much too fast.

  Dad always told me I should never promise anything for the future that I wouldn’t be happy to do today. Some people will promise you the earth for a fortnight next Friday, Sapphy.

  I swim back down, through the entrance, and into Saldowr’s cave. To my amazement the cave is full of light now, even though the whale is still blocking its entrance. My eyes sting and then adjust. There are tiny glowing buds of light everywhere on the walls, on the roof, even around Saldowr’s stone couch. They remind me of the lights that guided me through the passage to the Assembly chamber, but these are much, much brighter. I can’t even see the creatures that are giving out the light because they’re hidden by the dazzle. They make a brilliant green and silver light, cold but beautiful.

  Everything has changed while I’ve been away. Saldowr is no longer lying flat. He’s propped up by cushions of woven weed, and a girl with long hair is bending over him, carefully tending his shoulder. Elvira. Conor’s facing me, but he doesn’t see me because his eyes are fixed on Elvira. Faro’s holding a coral cup to Saldowr’s lip. A ripple of laughter reaches me.

  I feel a pang of indignation. They’re enjoying themselves, while I’m bracing myself to confront a monster. Look at Conor’s face. You wouldn’t think there was anyone in the world but Elvira. How did she get here? She must have slipped through the gap between whale and cave without my noticing. So it’s not enough for her to give Conor the talisman; she’s got to follow him everywhere too.

  I want Elvira to leave my brother alone. I’m not jealous of her—of course I’m not—but she’s too much like Mellina. I don’t want anybody stealing my brother away.

  “Oh, Elvira,” I say coldly as I swim toward Saldowr’s couch, “I didn’t realize you were here. What are you doing?”

  “She’s dressing Saldowr’s wound
,” says Conor, without taking his eyes off Elvira. “She’s made a poultice to draw out the inflammation.”

  Doesn’t he even care where I’ve been? Anything could have happened to me, for all Conor knows. He doesn’t seem bothered about what’s going on outside Saldowr’s cave. It’s enough that Elvira’s here, inside it.

  I used to like Elvira, but that was before I realized what she’s really like. She was a friend on the night of the flood, and she helped me when I smashed my leg against the granite wall. But now I know that all she really wanted was Conor.

  The talisman has opened my eyes. Elvira might as well have carved in huge letters: i want conor to come to ingo and become mer, just like his father.

  It’s not going to happen, Elvira. Being beautiful and helping everybody and making Conor feel that he’s the most amazing person in the universe aren’t going to be enough. Conor would never hurt Mum like Dad did. Besides, he loves the human world far too much to leave it. There are his friends and surfing and his music…

  But Dad had just as much to keep him—Mum, and us, and the Peggy Gordon, and his work, and everybody in our village who’d known him since he was born. And Dad turned his back on all of it.

  Conor is still admiring Elvira as she smooths the poultice with featherlight fingers.

  “Oh, yes, of course, Elvira’s a healer, isn’t she?” I say tartly.

  Elvira finishes with the disgusting dark green stuff that looks a lot more likely to poison Saldowr than heal him. Then she takes a pad of sea moss, places it over the poultice, and begins expertly to bind up his shoulder again. Her hands flicker deftly. I have to admit that she knows what she’s doing.

  When Elvira has finished, Saldowr sighs, leans back, and thanks her.

  “You have good hands, Elvira,” he tells her. “You have it in your power to become a great healer one day if you study hard.”

  I suppress a smile because it so reminds me of Mum telling me to study hard, go to uni, and get a good career. Adults are the same wherever you go.