The Deep

by Helen Dunmore

  “Saldowr, do you think—do you think that Dad will stay here forever?”

  Saldowr shakes his head slowly. “I cannot tell.”

  “But you can, Saldowr,” I say boldly. “You can look back and forward through time. You must be able to see what happens to Dad.”

  “Time has its secrets, even from me. You think that the Mer are holding your father prisoner, but it is not as simple as that. Prisoners can be released by their jailers. But if you are your own jailer, who is going to release you?”

  I don’t really understand what he’s talking about, so I say nothing. Conor looks angry and rebellious, but he says nothing either.

  Saldowr continues, “I make very few promises, but I can promise you that you will see your father again, and soon.”

  “When?”

  “Where?”

  “At the next Assembly, when the young Mer who think they are ready to make the Crossing of Ingo will come forward. All the Mer will be there. Your father will surely be there. I know in my heart that he will be strong enough. He will not miss a ceremony that is so important to us.”

  The Crossing of Ingo. The words sound familiar. Yes, of course, I’ve heard them before. The whale said that when I was old enough to make the Crossing of Ingo, I might meet her daughter at the bottom of the world. But how can I do that? I’m not Mer. I don’t really know what the Crossing of Ingo is or why I feel such a thrill of excitement and fear.

  “But Saph and I won’t be at that Assembly,” says Conor. “We’re not Mer.”

  Saldowr doesn’t answer for a while. Now I’m the one who feels rebellious. Conor can’t answer for me like that. I look down at my bare toes. My body is definitely one hundred percent human. I’m not so sure about my mind, though. My Mer blood is strong. Why shouldn’t I go to the Assembly?

  I watch Faro’s bone needle flash in and out of the cloak. The Crossing of Ingo…the Crossing of Ingo. Longing overwhelms me. I’ve got to be there. Conor’s wrong. I can’t just say, “I’m not Mer,” and leave it like that. Inside me I’ve been growing more and more Mer ever since that first day when I met Faro in the cove.

  It must have started long before that, only I didn’t know it. I wanted to be in Ingo even before I knew what Ingo was.

  I’ve got to go to that Assembly. Dad will be there, but that’s not the only reason. I need to be there for myself. I’ve got to test myself, or I’ll live the rest of my life never really knowing how strong my Mer blood is. Never knowing where I truly belong.

  “Faro,” I say quietly, “will you make the Crossing of Ingo?”

  “It’s not for me to decide, Sapphire,” answers Faro, glancing up from his task. “I’ll present myself to the Assembly and declare myself ready and willing. Then the decision is for the Assembly. Some are chosen, some are left behind. You can present yourself year after year and never be chosen.”

  Faro’s face is set. He doesn’t have to say how important this is to him. He’s got to be chosen, especially now that he knows he’s not one hundred percent Mer. I’m quite sure now that Faro has human blood in him, maybe from far back in the past. So many clues are starting to fit together. Faro’s always visited the shore more than most of the other Mer. He can stay in the Air for a long time. And then there’s his curiosity about the human world. He’s always asking me questions. He mocks the way human beings live, but he can’t hide his fascination.

  His dark eyes have no Mer silver in them. There’s no Mer tinge of blue to his skin. Once I start to think about it, it’s obvious.

  I’m equally sure that Faro hates having even a single drop of human blood. He won’t see it as a bond between us, but as a weakness. I won’t risk asking him about it. Faro only wants to belong in Ingo.

  “Faro…,” I say hesitantly, scared that he’ll refuse, “Faro, when you go to the Assembly chamber, can I go with you?”

  Faro drops the fish-bone needle and stares at me. A long stare, as if he’s reading my thoughts. And perhaps he is. I’m not stopping him.

  A brilliant smile lights up his face.

  “Yes, little sister,” he says, “you can come with me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I’M SO USED TO FARO SWIMMING alongside Conor, and Conor holding on to Faro’s wrist, that I think it’s still happening even when it isn’t. I don’t notice that there’s clear water between the two of them. We’re close to land, traveling not far below the surface. I look across to ask Faro how far it is now and see that there are more than two meters of water between Faro and Conor. They haven’t separated by accident. Conor’s not struggling. He’s swimming strongly.

  “Conor!”

  He turns. He looks completely normal, not pale and pinched and blue around the lips. He’s not fighting for oxygen. He’s drawing it from the water, just as Faro and I do.

  “Conor, you’re not holding Faro’s wrist!”

  “I know. Good, isn’t it?”

  I can still hardly believe it. Conor, swimming without support and as much at home in Ingo as I am. But why, after all this time? Something must have changed, but what?

  “I expect it’s because you have the talisman my sister made,” says Faro confidently.

  “No, it can’t be the talisman,” I say, “because Conor was wearing it earlier, before we went to the Deep. He still had to hold on to you then.”

  Faro shrugs. He’s swimming with his hands clasped behind his back, using only his tail to drive him through the water. “What does it matter?” he says carelessly, in the way people do when they want to drop an argument they’re going to lose.

  “Do you feel okay, Conor?” I ask him anxiously. “Really okay?”

  “I feel amazing,” says Conor. He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me how incredible it feels? I’m going to try what you’re doing, Faro.”

  He puts his hands behind his back, clasps them, and starts to swim quite differently, moving from the waist as Faro does. His legs are together, his feet joined. It looks weird, as if…

  As if Conor has a tail. And he’s going so fast. Too fast. I can hardly keep up with him.

  “Don’t, Con!”

  “What’s the matter, Saph?”

  “Don’t swim like that.”

  “But it’s amazing. It’s so much faster than the way we normally swim. I can’t believe I didn’t ever try it like this before. It’s like wearing fins!”

  I plunge after him. “Maybe that’s how Dad started, Con. Maybe he kept swimming like that, and when he wanted to go back to swimming normally, he couldn’t. Maybe it’s part of…you know…changing.” I’m whispering because of Faro. He’d be mortally insulted. What could be better than becoming Mer?

  “Don’t be crazy, Saph—nothing like that’s going to happen to me. You’re much more likely to end up with a tail than I am.”

  “All right, Conor, but please don’t do it. Please.”

  “Saph, you are so neurotic. You know I’m never going to become Mer. But if it keeps you happy…” Conor unclasps his hands and begins to swim a smooth, effortless crawl. Relief washes over me.

  “What is that kind of swimming, Conor?” asks Faro with apparent innocence. I guess that there’s a sting in the question somewhere.

  “Front crawl.”

  “Crawl—what is ‘crawl,’ exactly?”

  “You know, Faro, going along like a—like a—” I search my mind for a sea creature that could be said to crawl. “Oh, I don’t know, Faro, it’s just a stroke.”

  “What a lot of effort you humans put into ‘strokes.’ We Mer prefer just to swim.”

  Conor’s so elated by discovering that he can travel alone in Ingo that he doesn’t react to Faro’s teasing. For the first time he’s fully part of Ingo. I think back to the day two years ago when I first let go of Faro’s wrist and knew I could survive underwater. Conor’s right—it’s an amazing feeling. It changes you.

  “Thanks, Faro!” Conor calls.

  “What for?”

  “For all the
times you took care of me. Now you won’t have to do it anymore.”

  “No, you are my brother now,” says Faro. His mood seems to have changed completely. He’s suddenly very serious. “You are my brother, and Sapphire is my sister. We are bound forever by what we shared in the Deep. Our lives lay in one another’s hands, and we did not betray ourselves.”

  “I’d never do that,” says Conor.

  I know it’s true. Conor has such strength. He doesn’t even gossip behind people’s backs at school; he never has. People trust Conor. If he says he’ll do something, it’s done.

  I’ve spent too much of my life wishing I were like Conor. Maybe it’s partly because I always thought there was a look in Mum’s eyes that said, What a pity that you’re not more like your brother. But it’s not only that. Conor has qualities anyone would want.

  “For a long time I was not sure,” Faro says thoughtfully. “Sapphire, I was sure about her from the first day. But you—no. Even when you sang to the seals, even when you read the keystone, I still wasn’t sure. But now Ingo has rewarded you because of what you did in the Deep. Ingo has given you a sign that you belong here.”

  Conor frowns quickly. He hates people telling him what to do with his life. “We’re not slaves,” he says. “We don’t belong to anyone. Or anything.”

  But we do, Conor. You’re wrong. I’m not going to say it, though. It would just lead to an argument. Faro doesn’t argue either, but this time I don’t think it’s because he’s afraid of losing.

  The human world is coming closer. We pass below a red buoy and then another. They mark the lobster pots.

  “We can’t be far from the cove now,” says Conor.

  “No.”

  Suddenly I remember Sadie, not in the foggy way that I remember Air and Earth when I’m deep in Ingo, but with all my feelings alive again. I feel a surge of joy at the thought of putting my arms around Sadie’s warm neck and hugging her while she pants with excitement and tries to lick my face. It’s like waking up and remembering that it’s my birthday. And Mum…

  But with the thought of Mum and Roger, problems come rushing back too. I wish I didn’t always have to hide things from them. Half my life is a secret from Mum. I’ve also got a horrible feeling that Mum hides things from me too. She doesn’t really trust me, not as she trusts Conor.

  Sometimes I think you’re growing away from me, Sapphy. Mum said that about a week ago. I didn’t know what to answer. I could have said, Sometimes I think the same about you, but Mum would have been so hurt that it wasn’t worth it. I wish Mum could say the things the whale said. You please me. Of course I know Mum loves me really. The trouble is that there are so many things about me that she wants to change and improve.

  My chest hurts. There’s pain tightening its way around my ribs. You’re still in Ingo, remember, I tell myself. Don’t risk thinking of the human world. Ingo’s wild and dangerous, and it can kill you; but it doesn’t hurt you the way the human world can hurt you.

  Faro swims up close to me. “You’re leaving me again, little sister,” he murmurs. “Always coming and going, coming and going. When are you going to learn that you can’t live in two worlds?”

  “I have to, Faro. I don’t have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice. You just haven’t made it yet.”

  But I’m too tired to want to think about this. Faro doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel that you belong in the human world and that you belong in Ingo too. He’s determined not to face the fact that he’s probably got human blood in him. He takes it as an insult. I’m sure that’s wrong. You have to accept what you are, instead of fighting to pretend you’re something different.

  In a way I’m growing more Mer; I know I am. I don’t even have to think about whether I understand what the whale is saying; I just do. But at the same time I’m not as desperate to escape from the human world as I was just after Dad disappeared. Home seemed so empty, even with Conor there, but now it’s filling up again.

  There’s Sadie. No one can feel empty when a dog is pouring love all over them. I’ve made friends with Rainbow. And Granny Carne gave me the rowan. She didn’t give the rowan to Conor, even though he’s got so much more Earth in him than I have.

  “Did you mean what you said about the Crossing of Ingo?” Faro’s voice hardly stirs the water by my ear, but Conor hears.

  “No, she didn’t,” he says sharply. “She’s going home now, Faro, back where she belongs. Come on, Saph—we’re almost there.” And Conor kicks out strongly, increasing his speed until he overtakes us both.

  I’m not going to argue. I’d have to yell if I wanted to speak to Conor now anyway. He’s powering toward the shore, as if he can’t wait to get home.

  Faro and I drop back. The water is still deep enough and salty enough to be Ingo. Ingo has its arms wrapped around me. Maybe it’s only when you have to leave somewhere that you really know how much you love it. There’s sand beneath us now, and the sea turns turquoise.

  “Faro?”

  “I’m here.”

  There’s no hurry. We’ve been to the Deep and returned alive. The Kraken’s voice is silent. That’s enough for now. Faro smiles, as if he knows what I’m thinking. He probably does.

  “We must make a bracelet of our hair, Sapphire,” he says.

  “What?”

  “It’s what we Mer do as a sign of friendship. We each cut a lock of our hair, and then we weave the hair together so tightly that the water can never separate it. There are many weaving patterns. We must choose one that has meaning for us.”

  I look at Faro’s long hair, swirling around his shoulders in a cloud. The color is not very different from my own. If his hair and mine were woven together, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell where one ended and the other began.

  “What do you cut your hair with?” I can’t imagine that there are scissors in Ingo.

  “The edge of a clamshell.”

  “There isn’t time to do it now, Faro.” But I’d like to. Part of me would always be in Ingo then.

  “Next time I see you then.” Faro’s eyes glow with eagerness. “Let’s make our bracelets before the Assembly, Sapphire. We’ll wear them there. It’ll be a sign that when they choose one of us to make the Crossing of Ingo, they’ll have to choose the other as well.”

  Sometimes Faro’s confidence is outrageous. He turns every “if” into a “when.” But I like it too. I love the way he makes me feel that anything could happen, and the only thing that could stop me is myself.

  “But are you sure you want me to come, Faro? You might have a better chance without me.”

  “Better chance!” Faro scoffs. “Why are you so timid, little sister? We’ll make our own chances.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  NO ONE COMES TO OUR cove. Well, people do, of course, but not often. The climb is too steep, and you can’t carry stuff down, and the tide sweeps in too fast. Nearly everyone prefers Morvrinney Cove, about a mile down the coast.

  But there’s someone there now, on the flat white sand up by the rocks, as Conor and I swim up through the surface. At first I don’t notice. I’m busy fighting for breath. I’ve been in Ingo too long.

  “You okay, Saph?”

  I turn on my back and take great painful gasps of air. My lungs feel like paper bags that have been scrunched into a tiny ball. They don’t want to expand.

  “It’ll be better in a minute,” Conor comforts me.

  “I know, I—”

  “Don’t talk.”

  I float until my breathing settles. As soon as I look a bit better, Conor says warningly, “There’s someone in the cove, Saph. We’re going to have to be careful.”

  We roll over and start to swim in. At least whoever it is can’t have seen Faro: He didn’t even enter the cove this time. It may seem eccentric to go for a long swim in April, but that’s our business. The trouble is that whoever it is probably knows Mum, because only local people know the way down here.

  We swim slow
ly to shore. The cold of the sea is starting to bite. In Ingo you don’t feel it, but as soon as you leave Ingo, the protection leaves you too. My arms and legs feel as if someone’s sticking needles in all over them.

  “Can’t wait to g-get into dry clothes,” says Conor.

  “It’s so cold!”

  “Freezing.”

  I stagger as I come out of the water. The tide is lower than it was when we left the cove. That was morning, and by the sun’s position it’s late afternoon now. The tide’s been out, and now it’s coming in again. I shake my head to clear it. I feel as if I’ve been away for years.

  Conor left our stuff high up on the rocks, so it should still be dry.

  The figure waves but doesn’t move toward us. For a terrible moment I think it’s Mum, but then I shield my eyes, peer, and see that it’s Gloria Fortune.

  It can’t be. Gloria couldn’t climb down to the cove on her crutches. She’d never risk such a fall.

  “Hi, little mermaid,” calls Gloria Fortune, and swings down the sand toward us.

  “Don’t say anything, Saph,” whispers Conor. “Let me handle it.”

  But luckily Gloria is only joking. She thinks we’ve been for a freezing cold swim because that’s the kind of stupid thing that kids do, and as soon as she notices how much we’re shivering, she tells us to get changed quick before we catch pneumonia.

  Why is she here? What does she know?

  I grab my bundle of dry clothes, go behind a rock, pull off my wet clinging stuff, and then rub myself hard with the towel until some life comes back into my body. The dry clothes feel strangely hard and cardboardy, compared with how easy and flowing everything feels in Ingo. And the air is so thin and noisy. Gulls screeching, a helicopter way up in the sky making for St. Pirans, water slapping against rocks, waves swashing up onto the sand…

  It’s pandemonium. Why do people think we live in one of the most peaceful places on earth?

  I stuff my wet clothes into the bag with Conor’s, and we emerge to face Gloria Fortune. The best tactic is to start asking questions before she can—real questions, like, Did you fly down that cliff?