Royal Trouble: The Mysterious Sea

by Hope Erica Schultz

  “There might be a way back in, someday,” Jes said softly.

  Donal shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe some things belong in the past. We’re lucky to have escaped with what we did. Knowledge, bragging rights, and our lives.”

  Robert groaned, and there was a thud as Mrs. Clemens kicked him.

  8

  The water was teeming with sea life, all fleeing.

  They dodged a giant squid, maneuvered around a pod of dolphins, and ended up inside a school of silver fish half the size of the skiff. Waves were muted under the water, but molten boulders came down around them from time to time,

  A green sea monster larger than Blot’s father grabbed at them among the silver fish, and Donal braced. “Hold on!”

  “Not again!” Amalia cried.

  “Not quite.” Donal hit the switch he’d installed the day before, and a shock went through the monster, making it twitch and drop them. They dropped below the level of the silver fish, who scattered and reformed further away. “As soon as we’re a few miles further out, we’ll take to the air. But we’re pretty safe in the meantime.”

  “Unless we run out of food for Blot,” Chris griped. “He’s eating more than I do!”

  “I think I can see him growing,” Amalia chimed in. “No, Blot, the dictionaries are NOT food!”

  Jes twisted around in her seat to take the dictionaries onto her lap. “Hand me my pack, could you? I’ve got work to do.”

  Donal watched as she pored over the crystal sheet with the three kinds of writing on it. It looked boring to him, but he remembered what it felt like putting together an invention. That must be how Amalia feels about sword practice or how Chris feels about running and climbing. What you love doing is never boring.

  He dodged another boulder. In the air it would have been impossible, but the water slowed it down. It was getting longer between falling rocks and other disasters, but piloting still needed his full attention. I don’t see how anyone could ever be bored under the water. Donal paused, remembering the night sky, lit with a thousand stars. How could you possibly choose if you could only have one?

  * * *

  They took to the air as soon as they’d gone five minutes without falling rocks. Jes moved to the seat behind Donal’s and kept working on the translations while Amalia came up to help navigate and Chris continued to feed Blot. Mrs. Clemens watched Robert, her kind face grim.

  They searched Donal’s maps, and the closest inhabited island was a six-hour detour to the South. Unfortunately, that was long enough that Blot had eaten every bit of meat on board by the time they got there, and he was starting to express interest in the leather of their shoes. The island looked tiny from the air and wasn’t much bigger after they had landed. There was a small fishing village on one side, and Mrs. Clemens reported that a ship docked every week or two with mail or to pick up or drop off passengers. The far side where they set down was at least a half day walk through jungle from the village.

  Donal escorted Robert out under the watchful eye and weapons of Mrs. Clemens.

  “I’m not doing this to be nice. I’m doing this to spare my mother embarrassment. If you ever show up anywhere near the Waveborn islands again, you will be charged with piracy, attempted regicide, and treason. Do we understand each other?”

  Robert looked like he wanted to argue some part of that—probably regicide since Donal wasn’t actually a king. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and nodded.

  Donal tilted his head. He couldn’t see anything of this man in himself and didn’t want him in his life, but one curiosity nagged at him. “Are you actually my father? Or was that just one of your lies?”

  An expression of … regret? … crossed the pirate’s face, and he looked away. “I’m sorry, lad. I’m not your father. A father doesn’t leave and never look back. Any man worth knowing would be proud to have you as a son.”

  Donal nodded briskly and handed over a small pouch. “That should be enough to get you some distance away. Keep going. Make something worthwhile out of your life, so someone actually cares when you’re gone.”

  He turned back to the skiff, walking by Mrs. Clemens with her loaded pistol and grim expression. He rubbed Blot’s head before returning to the captain’s chair. When Mrs. Clemens was back inside, he waited only for her to strap in before taking off.

  They were out of sight of the island when Donal finally spoke again. “Mrs. Clemens, did Robert ever use the last name Clemens?”

  The housekeeper paused. “He did.”

  “You let him take you hostage to see if he would, didn’t you?”

  Mrs. Clemens sighed. “I took the firing pin out, first. I had a dagger under my skirt to take him with if he tried to fire it, but he didn’t. He threatened it, but he couldn’t seem to go through with it, and when I tried to force his hand—well, you saw what he did instead.”

  “He called you Grace,” Donal explained. “We never did, and I didn’t think it would have come up while you were guarding him.”

  “I thought you were widowed!” Jes exclaimed.

  Mrs. Clemens smiled although it was crooked. “Legally, I am. After two years missing at sea, a spouse is considered dead. I don’t think Clemens was ever his legal name, anyway. It was a long, long time ago.”

  Donal nodded. “Do you know if he’s my father?”

  The housekeeper shook her head. “I never met your mother’s husband. It was a brief marriage.”

  That was an understatement. Donal nodded again. “He said he wasn’t.”

  “That settles it. He isn’t your father.” Chris sounded cheerfully certain.

  Donal shook his head. “Maybe. But most people have tells when they lie, little signs that they’re not being honest. My mom twists her sleeve when she isn’t telling the whole truth. She was doing that when she pretended not to be worried about our trip. Robert looks you straight in the eye when he lies. When he said he wasn’t my father, he looked away.”

  “So, how do you know?” Jes asked softly.

  Donal smiled. “I don’t. But it doesn’t matter, any more than it matters who Blot’s mother was. Blot has me now, and I have my mom and Uncle Keegan and all of you.”

  “Are you going to tell your mom?” Amalia asked.

  Donal was silent for a while, thinking. Blot squeezed in next to his chair and rubbed against Donal’s leg.

  “I don’t lie to my mother. If she asks me if I met a man who said he was my father, I’d have to say yes. But I think Blot and the treasure and the erupting volcano are the important things here.” Donal looked down at Blot, who was at least a foot longer already. “And right now, it’s time to go under water and give Blot some room to swim.”

  * * *

  The trip under water was slower, especially as they had to surface to check the sextant against the stars. A pod of orcas took a brief interest in Blot but retreated after an electric shock from the skiff. Blot kept up easily, even catching his own fish. Sometimes he curled around the skiff and held on as they traveled, making happy noises.

  Jes used almost every minute on the translations, turning down even chances to pilot the skiff. She had to be reminded to eat, and for the first time, Donal got a glimpse of what he was like when he was enthralled with a project. When she started to sneak a small light to keep working when it was her turn to sleep, Donal used Captain’s privilege to bring her up to the co-pilot chair.

  “I know it’s hard to take a break when you’re making progress,” he said softly. “But your body and your mind both need rest. If you need me to, I can program Zap to stop you when you’ve gone too long without a break. That’s what I use at home.”

  He watched the sea outside them instead of her face, but he heard her sigh. It sounded like he imagined his always did.

  “All right,” Jes agreed. “But—I’m almost sure what it says, and I can’t wait to tell you all, but I have to know that I’m right.”

  Donal nodded. “Those crystal sheets—those belong to you. You rescued them. Nobody is going
to take them away from you unless you decide to loan them out to scientists. You have time. The mysteries have been there for centuries. A couple of hours more is okay.”

  Jes laughed a little, muffled with her hand to keep from waking the others. “I’ll try to remember that. Why don’t I steer for a couple of hours, then I’ll get some sleep?”

  Donal turned over the controls to her, then watched Blot until his eyes began to close. I’m becoming more like my mother. I think I’m happy about that.

  By morning they were close enough to message home that they were safe and well and on their way back. “We’ve got a surprise, so we’ll be coming in through the sea tunnel. I’ll let you know when we’re a few hours out,” Donal told his mother.

  “We’ll be waiting for you. Anything you’ll need besides food and then baths and a good night’s sleep?” Donal’s mother sounded happy but also relieved. It felt nice to know he had been missed.

  “Just you, although we won’t say no to hot food. Oh … maybe fifty pounds of raw fish?”

  The others were staring at him when he signed off. “Fifty pounds of raw fish and she didn’t even ask you why?” Chris asked.

  “My mom’s pretty cool,” Donal admitted.

  Amalia snorted. “All of our parents are pretty cool. Your mom—she just gets you.”

  It was what Chris had said. Donal nodded. “She does. Maybe I’m even starting to get her.”

  At noontime they checked Zap’s clock against true noon and corrected their course slightly. They were barely under water again when Jes spoke up.

  “I think I’ve got it. Not all of it—that will take months—but what happened to the people who built the islands.”

  Even Mrs. Clemens, who was steering at the time, looked around at her. Mrs. Clemens turned around again immediately but spoke up. “Please, tell us.”

  The others kept their eyes on Jes, and her face grew pink as she picked up the first sheet.

  “The people of the deep began to have children who could live in both air and water, and these children longed to explore the land and gaze up at the stars. They built halls where sea and air met, so that families could remain one, and all rejoiced.

  “Centuries turned, and those who lived in both air and water had children that could live only in air. These spread out upon the land, and as they went, they forgot, but still some came back to their ancestors.

  “More centuries passed, and the people of the sea saw that no more children were being born who could live among the waves. Then, the people of the sea went back to their homes far beneath the water and remembered the old ways while any still lived. When the last were gone, those on the islands who could still swim below the waves sank the islands, and sea and air were no longer joined. Many ships searched for a time until history became legend and legend became myth. There is no more for them to find. We are gone. We are gone. We live on in those who watch the stars.”

  There was a long moment of startled silence. Finally, Donal spoke. “They became us.”

  Jes nodded. “The ancient Dorns and the ancient Keschel. The first two civilizations to have writing, who were rumored to have technology better than what came after, but never had gunpowder or steel—because you can’t make those underwater.”

  There was a kind of mourning in knowing that your far distant ancestors had reached towards the stars and lost the sea. It gave some perspective to the mystery of a missing father, that everyone was missing ancestors they had never known existed. And we have the sea again. Not quite the way they did, but close enough.

  “Everything we thought we knew is wrong,” Jes added. She grinned. “This is going to be the biggest development in scientific knowledge since the discovery of steam!”

  “Wait, is that a good thing?” Chris asked.

  Amalia shrugged. “I’m betting we’re going to end up with new ways to blow stuff up.”

  Chris pumped his fist in the air. “Count me in!”

  * * *

  By the time they got close to the island, Blot looked like he was longer than the skiff and about as big around as Donal’s waist. He had also learned to say a new word—fuhd—and to understand the concept that some things were fuhd, and others were not.

  “Just how big is he going to get?” Jes asked. “Was his father full grown?”

  “I think his father was only mid-sized.” Mrs. Clemens was piloting, so Donal searched in his pack a minute and pulled out a fist sized sculpture of a sea monster wrapped around a castle, a six-fingered person on its back.

  “That thing is huge,” Jes exclaimed. “Wait, this looks like your castle!”

  Donal nodded. “I think it was carved to look like my castle. I think the tunnels underneath my castle into the water weren’t accidental at all.”

  “The six-fingered people had sea monsters for pets?” Jes sounded shocked, as though that were stranger than defying gravity and using crystal for paper.

  “Maybe,” Donal agreed. “Or maybe as friends. Blot is only five days old, and he knows two words. We were a year before we could do that.” Donal paused. “Actually, maybe we are the pets.”

  “Whichever it is, Captain, it’s time to find the way in,” Mrs. Clemens interjected. They were passing through the harbor, avoiding anchors and fishing lines, and Donal directed her to the cliff wall under the castle. “Come on, Blot!”

  The tunnel was wider then the lava tubes under the volcano had been. There was plenty of room for Blot to zip ahead of them and back. Donal called encouragement to the baby sea monster as Mrs. Clemens brought them up to the water chamber. An air-filled tunnel to their right led up to the chamber they’d left from only a week before.

  Ahead of them were a gathering of people—their parents, Uncle Kegan, Alex—and in front was Donal’s mother, with a barrel of raw fish. When Blot’s dark blue head broke the surface beside the skiff, she just smiled and tossed a large fish into the air for him.

  “Mom!” Donal rushed out of the skiff before the door had finished opening. “You will never believe what we found!”

  She hugged him, hard, before tossing another fish to the happy sea monster. “I think, after this introduction, I will probably believe everything else. But the most important thing is that you found your way home.”

  * * *

  They shared the discoveries after dinner.

  Dinner time itself was an excited description of the sea monsters, the volcano, and their daring escapes. Donal thought that their parents took it all rather well, with only Jes’s father, King Willem, looking like he was trying not to hyperventilate.

  The show and tell portion of the evening was rather less sedate. While Blot alone had entranced Chris’s dad into long discussions of cryptozoology and the opportunity to study the life cycle of sea monsters up close, everyone was amazed at what they’d brought home. When Jes read them her translation of the triple-language sheet, all of the parents went silent, and Jes’s and Amalia’s mothers cried.

  “This is the cultural phenomenon of our lifetimes, and if you’d delayed another week, it wouldn’t have ever been found,” Amalia’s mother said. “Not that the response is all going to be positive, but this is worth some controversy.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be positive?” Jes demanded. “It’s a treasure trove of knowledge!”

  The adults looked at each other the way adults always did when they didn’t know what to say. “Some people get very upset when their ideas about the world turn out to be wrong,” Donal’s mom said carefully.

  “Like Dark Mathis, who wanted to be the winner so badly that he tried to hurt the people who’d only helped him,” Chris pointed out. “Some people are idiots.”

  Mrs. Clemens nodded. “Some people are. Some of us get smarter over time.”

  The adults turned to look at her, and Donal cleared his throat. If anyone was going to accidentally reveal too much, it would be Chris, but if it were from guilt, his money was on Mrs. Clemens.

  “Chris and Amalia and I haven’t showed
you what we brought back yet,” he interjected. He motioned for Chris to go first with his more ordinary treasures, knowing that no one would be interested in jewels once Amalia brought out the gravity defying disc.

  Chris’s treasures took a good half hour to go through and were easily worth the ransom of a rather larger Kingdom than all of theirs put together. Donal was pretty sure that most parents wouldn’t have immediately started talking about museums instead of money, but as Amalia had said—all their parents were cool.

  Amalia’s technological treasures almost broke Uncle Kegan, and they agreed that they’d give it a few weeks before calling in any other experts so that he could examine them first. Donal, going last, wondered for a moment why he’d picked the human things himself, the carvings and pictures that showed life among these long-gone ancestors. He loved technology as much as Uncle Kegan did, but when it came down to it, he’d chosen memories. If I’d had to choose, I would have chosen Blot over every bit of the treasure we rescued.

  When they were done, it was too late for anyone to go home, even by airship. As the others went off to their rooms, Mom had blankets and pillows brought down to the water room where Blot waited. She joined him there and handed him a cup of tea as she sat down with her own, watching Blot snuggle up to him.

  “I found something else out there,” he said softly, stroking the sea monster’s indigo neck. “I think I found who I want to be when I grow up.”

  His mother only looked at him, smiling and open. He smiled back.

  “I want to be smart, like Uncle Kegan. I want to be caring, like you. And I want to be a good dad, whether that’s just to Blot or whether I have kids of my own someday.”

  She opened her arms, and he leaned against her while Blot leaned against him. “You will be. I’ve known that since you left your lab behind to come rescue me and the others last Spring.” She hugged him tightly. “Who we are isn’t what we think, Donal. It’s what we choose when there’s no time to think it through. I’m proud of your choices.”