The Floating Island

by Elizabeth Haydon

  “Isn’t everything in a thieves’ market stolen?” Clemency asked.

  The ragged woman drew herself up as tall as she could and snorted in contempt.

  “That’s a lie,” she said angrily. “Not everyone in the Gated City’s a thief. Some of us’s just the kin o’ thieves from long ago. Many honest folk works here in the market.” She seemed to reconsider her statement. “Well, maybe not many, but there’s some here and there. Now, git.” She shooed them away with her fingerless-gloved hands.

  Excerpt copyright © 2006 by Elizabeth Haydon.

  “I-I’m not sure about this,” Char said nervously. “That place looks even creepier than the rest of this creepy city.”

  “Come on,” said Ven impatiently, starting for the alley. “We don’t have time to waste—if Saeli’s in there, we have to get to her before she’s sold. Let’s go.”

  Clemency nodded and followed Ven, with Char catching up a moment later.

  * * *

  As soon as we stepped onto the cobblestones of the Stolen Alleyway, I could understand why Char hesitated. It was almost impossible to see the buildings in the mist, but what I could see looked dark and abandoned, even in daylight. The street itself was winding, and curved off into the fog.

  People were walking along the alleyway, stopping at the booths and tents that lined the street, just as they did in other parts of the Gated City. But these shoppers were different. Unlike the people wandering the brighter parts of the Outer Market, glancing at all the different wares, these people seemed as if they were looking for something specific. They also seemed much more nervous, much more desperate.

  We understood how they felt.

  * * *

  The booths of this alleyway were not as brightly colored as the ones in the main streets. Instead of the carefully painted banners and the carved boothplates there were simple signs above each stall made from ragged gray cloth, each bearing the name of the goods offered, printed on them in ink.

  Char and Clemency both stopped in the middle of the street as Ven approached the first booth. He squinted to read the sign.

  Kisses

  Ven’s eyes moved down from the sign to the person sitting beneath it.

  A white-haired woman, or what appeared to be a woman, grinned back at him toothlessly, the wart on her chin sprouting hairs as long as the ones on her head.

  Ven backed away in alarm.

  Clem grabbed his arm and led him deeper into the alleyway.

  “Might want to avoid that one,” she said.

  “Er—yes,” Ven coughed.

  “This is the oddest place I’ve ever been, and I’ve been in some doozies,” Char muttered as they made their way past the huddled shoppers, looking at the strange booths and the signs above them.

  “What can this possibly mean?” Clemency asked as she read more of the signs on the booths.

  Thoughts

  Moments

  Glances

  “They’re all things that can be stolen, just like actual stuff,” said Ven, passing a gray rag banner reading Dreams. “Stolen thoughts, stolen moments, stolen glances, stolen dreams—I’ve heard of all of those things, but I never thought they could be resold.”

  “Well, if you ever had a kiss stolen, you can go back an’ get it from her,” Char said, pointing over his shoulder at the booth where the warty old woman had been. “But she can have the one Lucy Dockenbiggle took off’a me when I was nine, thanks anyway. I can’t believe anyone would buy that one—it was pretty awful.”

  “Who is Lucy Dockenbiggle?” Clemency asked curiously.

  “Keep moving,” said Ven under his breath. “I don’t think we want to linger long here.”

  They continued down the Stolen Alleyway, past signs for Youth, Knowledge, and Time. Some of the booths were empty, while others had a single person sitting within them, waiting for customers. Ven slowed down for a moment in front of one reading Shirts. Within the drapes of that stall they could see shirts of all sizes and colors hanging, flapping gently in the foggy breeze.

  “This one doesn’t make sense to me,” he said, coming to a halt. “Shirts? What is this doing in the Stolen Alleyway? Shouldn’t it just be in the Outer Market with all the rest of the goods?”

  “No,” Char said quickly, tugging at his arm. “Haven’t ya never heard of someone losin’ his shirt? It means he got taken for everything he had. I don’t think we want to be near this booth especially.”

  “Yes, my guess is that the residents of this place could steal the shirts from our backs and we might not even notice,” added Clemency. “Keep moving.”

  “I only see three more booths anyway, and no sign of Saeli,” said Ven anxiously. “It was probably a mistake to come here.”

  They hurried down to the end of the alleyway, passing booths for stolen ideas and futures, until they came to the last stall on the street. The ratty, gray sign read:

  Childhood

  “Saeli!” Ven shouted, looking up and down the street. His word seemed to be almost instantly swallowed; it did not echo as it should have.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Clem, glancing around. “She must be somewhere else. I think we should look for a flower seller—that’s the kind of person who might make use of a Gwadd.”

  “Yeah, let’s go,” Char urged. “I wanna go back to the normal part of the market, where everyone is just a thief looking to take your money. This place is givin’ me hives.”

  Ven nodded, and turned to head back out the way they came. Just as he did, he and the other children heard a soft female voice behind them call out.

  “Char!”

  The three turned around in shock.

  There was no one in the street looking their way, just the same shoppers with their heads down, their eyes averted, milling through the alleyway toward the booths they sought.

  “Saeli?” Char called.

  “Over here,” replied the voice. It was coming from within the last booth, the one labeled Childhood.

  “Saeli!” Ven shouted again as the three ran toward the booth.

  Just as they came to within a few feet of it, the drape in front was pulled back. Inside the booth was a young woman with dark eyes and hair, and a bright, warm smile. Her eyes never glanced at Clemency or Ven, but rather went directly to Char. Her smile widened.

  “Char,” she said softly.

  Char’s face was as white as snow.

  “How—how do you know my name?” he stammered.

  * * *

  I thought back to something McLean once told me when he called me by name even before being introduced to me. He said that once I had spoken my name in the inn it was on the wind and could be heard by Storysingers and other people who know how to listen to what the wind hears.

  The young woman in the booth might have been part Lirin, though she seemed very human. Perhaps she was a Singer, but my guess was that she was not. Singers take an oath to always tell the truth, and I had my doubts that anyone behind the gates of this city could have ever made good on that promise.

  * * *

  The young woman looked for the first time at Ven, then at Clemency. Then she shook her head.

  “No, I’m sorry, I have nothing for you two,” she said briskly. “You must both have had happy childhoods—or acceptable ones.” Her attention returned to Char. “But you, now—you were robbed of yours fairly early, weren’t you, Char?”

  Ven glanced at his friend. Char was trembling violently.

  “Let’s go,” he said, taking him by the shoulder.

  “Wait!” said the young woman quickly. “If you leave now, Char, you may never get the chance to find it again.”

  Char’s eyes were focused straight ahead. He shrugged off Ven’s hand and walked slowly up to the booth.

  The woman within the stall smiled again. She reached under the counter and pulled out a tiny glass box with a purple oval stone set in the top.

  “How—how much?” Char asked, his voice shaking.

  “Char
—don’t,” Ven said, but his words seemed to be swallowed again by the mist in the alley.

  The woman’s smile grew brighter, and her cheeks took on a rosy glow. “For the whole box—one thousand gold crowns,” she said sweetly.

  Char’s face went slack. “I—I don’t have that kind of money,” he whispered. “I prolly won’t see that much in my whole lifetime.”

  The woman nodded. “Some people are willing to spend everything they gain in a lifetime to recapture their lost childhoods,” she said. Her voice was as smooth as caramel candy. “That’s a high price to pay. But for a single gold piece, I would be willing to let you see a moment of yours.”

  “I—I—”

  “Leave him alone,” said Ven angrily. “You’re a cheat and a charlatan! Nobody can buy back childhood. Come on, Char, let’s get out of this place.”

  “Shut up!” Char snapped; his eyes were glowing with interest and fear. He fumbled in his pockets and produced the single gold piece the moneychanger had given him, then held it out, his hand quivering, to the young woman.

  Her hand shot out quickly, like all the other hands of the sellers in the market, and snagged the coin. Then she slid the box with the purple stone forward on the counter.

  “Go ahead,” she said softly. “Have a peek.”

  Slowly Char took hold of the top of the box and raised it.

  Ven looked inside. There was nothing in it, just a velvet-lined bottom the color of a cloudless sky.

  “You tricked him,” Clemency said accusingly. “Give him back his gold piece.”

  The woman’s smile grew brighter still. She looked at Char, who was staring into the box, his eyes glistening.

  “Do you want your coin back, Char?” she asked, amused.

  “No!” Char gasped, his voice harsh. “Shhhhhh.”

  * * *

  I have no idea what he was looking at. The box was empty; I could tell from Clem’s expression that she was seeing it the same way I was. But Char continued to stare into it, his eyes gleaming, until the young woman slammed the top down. Then he looked as if he had been slapped across the face.

  * * *

  “That’s all one gold piece buys you, I’m afraid,” she said to Char regretfully. “But you can take it if you want.”

  She opened the box again. Char reached in quickly and pulled his hand back as she closed the top again, gently this time.

  “I—I could work for it,” Char said. Ven was alarmed by the intensity in his voice. “I can cook, an’ I have experience as a deckhand—”

  The woman nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose we could arrange something like that,” she said casually.

  “No! Char, snap out of it!” Ven shouted, shaking his roommate by the arm. With Clem’s help he dragged Char, struggling, away from the table, away from the woman with the warm, black eyes, down the street of the Stolen Alleyway, and back into the bright light of the late morning in the open air of the Outer Market.

  Ven did not stop until he had reached the well in the center of the street. He pushed Char down onto the well’s rim, then hauled up a bucket and splashed the water from it on his friend’s face.

  “What happened?” he asked as Char shook his head, spattering drops of water everywhere. “What did you see in that box?”

  Char looked down at the cobblestones of the street.

  “I can’t explain,” he said finally. “Happy times, the warm grass—maybe a picnic. Images of things in my memory that didn’ make no sense at the time, and don’t now. But they were real; she wasn’t fakin’ me. Especially this.” He opened his hand.

  In it was a red glass bead.

  “I remember this,” Char continued. “I’m not sure how, but I remember being held and playing with this. Maybe a whole string of ’em.” He turned the bead over in his hand. “And the smell of lemon and roses. I remember that still, too. Whoever was holdin’ me smelled like lemon and roses.”

  “Did you see anyone’s face?” Clem asked.

  Char shook his head.

  * * *

  READER’S GUIDE

  The Lost Journals of Ven Polypheme

  THE FLOATING ISLAND

  ELIZABETH HAYDON

  Illustrations by BRETT HELQUIST

  * * *

  About this Guide

  The information, activities, and discussion questions that follow are intended to enhance your reading of The Floating Island. Please feel free to adapt these materials to suit your needs and interests.

  Writing and Research Activities

  I. Real-World and Magical Entities

  A. In the course of his journey Ven Polypheme sees, meets, or is told about many intriguing creatures, places, and things that the king eventually describes as pieces of the magical puzzle of the world. Some of these entities come from the real world, such as Megalodon, or from real-world myths, like the merrow, while others are totally products of the author’s imagination. Make a list of the wonders Ven sees, and divide the list into three columns—real, myth, and imaginary. Then look them up on the Internet to see if you are right. You may be surprised how many of the “magical” things that Ven sees actually have a basis in real life.

  B. Oliver Snodgrass tells Ven a story about how some people say the world was made when he explains the origins of the Floating Island. Do you know any other stories about the way the world came to be? Most cultures have their own explanations of how the world was made. Go to the library or the Internet and look up some of the cultural tales about creation. How are they similar? How are they different?

  C. Dill is the tart spice that is used to make rye bread and pickles. When McLean introduces some of the Spice Folk to Ven, they seem to have personalities that mirror the name of their spice, like Dill and Fennel, who are mischievous. What sort of personality would a fairy named Rosehip have? How about Mustardseed? Make a list of spices from your spice rack or from the Internet, and decide what kind of personalities their fairies would have. Taste some of them. Choose one and draw that fairy.

  II. Different Races and New Families

  A. Ven explains the way Nain name their children. He is proud of being named for Magnus the Mad. Were you named for anyone or for a special reason? Write down your name(s) and look up the meaning on the Internet or in the library. Does it fit you? See if you can figure out what Polypheme means by looking up the parts of the word (poly and pheme) as well as the whole name on the Internet.

  B. Throughout the book, we see people of different races being suspicious of one another. The merrow is very distrustful of Ven when she thinks he is human; the woman on the road is horrified to hear that there are Nain nearby. Why are people suspicious of those who are different? Examine your own thoughts. Have you ever been suspicious of someone of a different race? Why?

  C. Some of the races that are mentioned in The Lost Journals are the Gwadd, like Saeli; the merrows and selkies, like Amariel; the Lirin, like McLean; the Kith, like Galliard; and, of course, the Nain, like Ven. Make a list of the different characteristics of these races. For instance, the Gwadd are shy and don’t like to talk. Could this be because they are so much smaller than everyone else and feel vulnerable? Which races have things in common? And which of the Five Gifts of the Creator—wind, water, fire, earth, or starlight (ether)—does each race seem most like?

  III. The Sea

  A. Doing something “to the bitter end,” being left “high and dry,” or “on an even keel” are all expressions from the sea that are used in everyday life. Research other sea-based expressions and see if you are using any that you didn’t even know were from the sea.

  B. The sea has served to inspire a vast amount of poetry throughout time. Read some of these famous poems about the sea: “Sea Fever,” by John Masefield; “Break, Break, Break,” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson; “Christmas at Sea,” by Robert Louis Stevenson; or “Casabianca,” by Felicia Hemans. What sort of images do they all have in common? Then write your own poem about the sea, whether or not you have ever seen it.

/>   Questions For Discussion

  1. The story opens with Ven writing a letter from jail. Why do we sympathize with him instead of thinking he’s a robber or murderer? We start the story in the middle, before we know who everyone is. Does telling a story while looking back allow us to change our opinions of people in the story as we read?

  2. The sense of not belonging is shared by many individuals. Too tall, too short, too thin, too big, too young, too dark, unfortunately our sense of being unique bumps right into our wish to belong to a group. How do you cope with that conflict? Ven is a Nain, and therefore an outsider, but in the human city his family is almost its own colony. What kind of group within a group do you belong to? Are there times when we belong in groups we might not want to belong to?

  3. Ven receives two gifts early on—the albatross feather and the jack-rule. The idea of “a feather in his cap” usually means an accomplishment, something to be proud of. The feather is one of those details that might have been overlooked if the story just unfolded from beginning to end. Is the reappearance of the albatross throughout the story what makes his first meeting important? The jack-rule turns out to be a kind of graduation gift. What kinds of gifts do you think Pepin gave his other children?

  4. Whose fault is it that the ship was lost? Later in the story we discover that it was a planned, not random, attack, but at the beginning, who do you blame for the loss of the ship and crew? Ven refuses to let Amariel or the captain make him feel better about the ship and men he thinks he destroyed. We, the readers, understand both that he had no choice and that it’s likely they would have been destroyed by the pirates anyway. What about Ven makes him hold onto the feeling of being responsible?

  5. Amariel says, “You’re welcome. Good-bye,” several times. If she leaves, it’s likely Ven will not survive. Why is she so eager to leave? How does Ven convince her to stay? Which of Ven’s friends has the most curiosity besides himself?