“I didn’t see him, but I heard him,” Somerled continued. “When the man went to visit Cumai, I was talking to her through the large apple tree in the middle of the mill. The man knocked and she opened the door.”
“And then what?” I asked, breathless.
“I couldn’t hear anything for several minutes. But when they came closer to the apple tree again, I heard Cumai and that man fighting about something called the Ark of the Passages.”
“Did they say exactly that?” Aiby asked, suddenly alarmed. “The Ark of the Passages?”
“Yes. The man was furious. He said he’d sifted through the whole village and that he knew the Ark of the Passages could be hidden in one of only two places: Cumai’s house or the Enchanted Emporium.”
“How did Cumai respond?” Aiby asked.
“She said that he was crazy. Completely crazy. Then he got even angrier and said, ‘You’re nothing but an old witch, and you want me to believe you don’t know anything about the Ark of the Passages?’”
“Did she know about the Ark?” Aiby asked.
“She said she knew about it perfectly well. That they all knew about it, but not because it was hidden in her house,” Somerled said, her voice was trembling.
“Then what happened?” I asked.
“I heard a chair break,” Somerled said.
“Were they fighting?” I asked.
“I think so. They kept arguing. The man insisted that this Ark had to be in Applecross, but Cumai kept insisting that it was only a legend. He told her that the most powerful object that had ever been created couldn’t be just a legend. Then he shouted, ‘You’ve already talked to Locan Lily about it, right? Where are you two hiding the Ark of the Passages?!’”
Somerled and I saw Aiby’s face grow as pale as the leaves before summertime.
“Aiby,” I asked. “Do you know what they were talking about?”
“Maybe,” she said. Then she added, “Actually, yes. Definitely yes, but I didn’t think . . .”
Aiby trailed off. I didn’t press her to continue. She didn’t say anything else for a while.
“They say it was my great-great-grandfather — Reginald Lily,” she said, breaking the silence. “That he had it. And that’s why the Others caused his shipwreck along the coast.”
“Your grandfather had this Ark of the Passages thing?” I asked.
Aiby shook her head. “It’s not true. He never had it. My mother looked for it for a long time, all the way until the day before . . . the day before she died. It had become her obsession. My father’s as well. They spent years searching for it across half the world — wherever Reginald Lily had left any traces behind. But they never found it. It doesn’t exist. The Ark of the Passages has never existed.”
“That man seemed certain of its existence when he murdered Cumai,” Somerled whispered. “He was convinced it was hidden somewhere in town. At Cumai’s house, or —”
“So how did it end?” I interrupted.
“The last thing I heard Cumai say was, ‘Semueld, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. May the Others protect you and may the Dreamer Kings never learn of your stupidity.’”
Semueld, my mind repeated.
The wind tipped the flower petals back and wafted up the smell of the sea.
“After that, he cursed and left the mill,” Somerled finished.
“Semueld Askell killed old lady Cumai,” I said, feeling suddenly weak. And for the first time since the Green Man had arrived, I felt a real sense of danger in in my gut.
Somerled was staring at me with her big jade eyes. “Do you know him? Do you know who he is?”
“We both know him well,” Aiby answered for me. “Rather, I should say we thought we knew him. Because I never would’ve believed he would go so far.”
“He’s not one of the Others, right?” Somerled asked.
Aiby shook her head. “No. Semueld Askell is a member of one of the seven families who run the Enchanted Emporium. He’s a shopkeeper, like me. Or at least he should have become one after my family’s turn.”
“And this so-called Ark of the Passages?” I said. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Aiby said. “No one knows. It’s little more than a legend now. The most ancient of objects, dating back to the most ancient of magical times. Before the Magical Revolution, from a time when writing didn’t exist. The Ark of the Passages was the first magical object ever created. They say it was a treasure chest that contained the essence of all magic inside it — the connection between the two worlds. But whatever it was or wasn’t, it is my father’s opinion that the object no longer exists. Perhaps it has gone missing, or, more likely, it has been destroyed.”
“So why does Askell think you have it?” Somerled asked.
“Because he’s been touched by the legend of the Ark of Passages,” Aiby said. “Actually, he’s been smudged by it, spreading rumors like a Typhoid Mary, infecting others to believe we have the magical object at the Enchanted Emporium.”
“But you don’t have it, right?” I asked.
Aiby seemed to shrink. “You don’t believe me?”
It was hard to meet her gaze, but that day in the oak forest, I did it. I stared her in the face instead of glancing at my feet in embarrassment. My heart pumped harder and harder in my chest until I had no choice but to lower my eyes first.
“Regardless, Semueld Askell is still coming to look for it,” Somerled said.
“Let him come,” Aiby replied. “We have nothing to fear. My father, Meb, Finley, and I are protected by the keys we possess. But you’re right about one thing, Forest Being.” She put her hands on the ground and crossed her fingers, intertwining them with the blades of grass. “We have to consider all the other people in Applecross. We have to solve this problem the right way.”
“I say we let Bobby Thorne know,” I said.
“Who’s Bobby Thorne?” Aiby asked.
“The district policeman,” I said.
“And what do you expect him to do about any of this?” Aiby asked. “It’s a question of magic, Finley. The ones we should inform first are the Others.”
I glared at her. “And how are we going to inform them?” I asked.
“Last night we used a bonfire,” Aiby said. “And they replied in kind.”
My eyes widened. I remembered the other bonfires that lit up on the islands in the bay. “Do you mean those were the Others communicating with us?”
“Cumai has a brother,” Somerled said quietly. “He’s a Guardian of the Passages.”
“A brother?” I said.
“He was probably the first to get angry,” Aiby explained.
“So you’re telling me that one of the Passages is on an island in the bay where we saw the bonfires lit?” I asked.
“Yes, but we don’t know which one,” Somerled said.
I was flabbergasted. “You’ve been looking for the Passage back to your home, so why didn’t Cumai tell you about it?”
“It’s not that simple,” Somerled said. “Revealing a Passage is a betrayal. And that’s just not something they do. Cumai did leave some hints, though. Sort of.”
“What do you mean?” Aiby asked.
“When the man left the mill, Cumai wasn’t dead,” Somerled said. “She used the last of her energy to get close enough to the apple tree to tell me to look for her brother . . . and to give him this.” Somerled opened a packet of leaves and pulled out a key made of dark wood. “I think this is the key to Cumai’s mill. Shortly before she died, she managed to press it into the apple tree to pass it to me.”
Somerled handed it to me. “I don’t know how to figure out which island Cumai’s brother is on,” she said. “But I hope you are able find it.”
The key was light. I wondered if it was hollow inside.
“There’s on
e last thing you should know,” Somerled murmured. “This Semueld Askell has to be a Borderpasser. Only a Borderpasser could enter the apple tree room in Cumai’s mill.”
“Semueld’s not a Borderpasser,” Aiby insisted.
“How do you know?” I asked her.
“I met him,” she said. “I would have noticed it.”
“So you’re one?” I asked. “A Borderpasser?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“And am I?” I asked.
Aiby hesitated. I looked down at Patches and petted him. “I don’t think I’m a Borderpasser, Patches,” I said.
“The truth is that I’m not sure,” Aiby said. “Sometimes it seems like you are, sometimes it doesn’t.”
I chuckled. “So you’re saying I’m inconsistent?”
“My father said you have a strong Voice of Places and that your spirit is one with the spirit of Applecross, but that you’re not a Borderpasser,” she said. “But I’m not so sure. I suppose, yes, you are inconsistent. Or undecided.”
“What do you think?” I asked Somerled.
“You have a strong Magical Voice, Finley,” Somerled said. She slowly got to her feet. “But I don’t know if you’re a Borderpasser.”
“So there’s no way to know for sure?” I asked.
She and Aiby exchanged glances. “There is one way to find out,” Somerled said.
Aiby bit her lower lip. “Yes, there is one way.”
I waited for her to finish the thought, but she didn’t. That means it’s dangerous, I realized.
Aiby and I said goodbye to Somerled, assuring her that we’d find Cumai’s brother and give him the wooden key to the mill. Then we left for the Emporium.
“Good grief! I forgot about your brother!” Aiby said suddenly. She had a look of irritation on her face that made me quite happy.
“You’re really not any older than I am?” I asked her.
She snorted as we raced along the path toward the Enchanted Emporium. “Listen, Finley. I’m younger than you think and much older than you hope.”
“What’s that? A riddle?” I asked.
“It should be enough for you,” Aiby said. “Okay?”
“Are you two years older than me?” I asked.
“Finley . . .” she said.
“Are you one year older than me?” I asked.
“FINLEY!” she growled.
“Six months?” I asked in my smallest voice.
Aiby stopped and placed her hands on her hips. “I do not intend to continue this discussion.” She started scurrying toward her house.
I waited back for a moment to think. Six months would be okay, I thought. It would match our height difference of six inches. I could handle her being six months older than me.
I grabbed my dog and tossed him in the air with a surge of hope. In response, I received a surprised yip and grumpy look. For a brief moment I forgot all about the conflict between the two worlds, the mysterious murderers, and the impending danger. All I could think about was how to capture Aiby Lily’s heart. I hurried to catch up to her.
As I walked, I realized a lucky coincidence — for those who believe in them, anyway (for the record, I am not one of them). Aiby had just told me that the only way to find out if I was a Borderpasser was to dive from the top of one of the signal towers in Applecross Bay. She’d mentioned a specific one called Sheir Thraid. That tower was several miles south of town. It had a kind of cage at the top, which the kids in Applecross just called “the gallows.” It stuck out of the sea some twenty feet from the shore, marking a low reef along the sea floor that was teeming with crabs.
“Aiby,” I said, “I think we should go to Sheir Thraid.” I expected her to say no, but asked anyway.
Aiby hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” she said, still somewhat agitated by my earlier persistence. “Let’s ask Doug to bring us there.”
I nodded and smirked. Doug won’t like this one bit, I thought.
* * *
My brother docked the boat he’d “inherited” from Mr. Dogberry in Reginald Bay. This reminded me that he had recently died of a heart attack. Could Mr. Dogberry’s death have been another Sidhe Strike by Semueld? I wondered.
Doug barely had enough time to turn off the motor before Aiby asked him to take us for a ride to Sheir Thraid. Doug looked at us as like we were a pair of idiots. He reminded us that only Clever Walter, an ironically named shepherd from Applecross, had ever dived from the tower . . . and he’d split his head open on a rock.
Normally that would’ve given me pause. But that day in July, things had already taken on a life of their own, and I felt powerless to stop them.
Doug pointed out that it would take several hours to get there and back, so Aiby suggested they have a picnic on the boat. I smiled, hopped on board, and took a seat next to Doug.
“You’re kidding, right, Viper?” he whispered to me as Aiby took her place at the bow of the boat. “The picnic was supposed to be just me and her.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t eat anything,” I whispered back.
My brother was gripping the rudder like he wanted to snap it in two. “I can’t believe you managed to horn in on my date,” he whispered. He revved the outboard motor and glared at me with fire in his eyes.
The wind whipped my hair around, and I could see my face reflected in the mirrored lenses of Doug’s sunglasses. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” I whispered, gesturing at his shades. “Who could refuse a guy with those slick sunglasses? You look like you came right out of an American action movie.”
“Watch it, Viper!” Doug warned.
“Will you two stop fighting?” Aiby said from the bow of the boat. She had one leg overboard and the other leaning on the picnic basket Doug had lovingly prepared for the two of them.
Aiby watched the water. I could tell she was worried, but I didn’t know if it was because the tower idea seemed dangerous or because we still needed to find Cumai’s brother and appease the Others’ wrath. I still didn’t understand everything that had happened, nor why Semueld Askell was to blame.
Doug had closed himself off in grumpy silence, his muscles flexing under his shirt as he corrected our course over the waves.
Patches was so excited he couldn’t sit still. He alternated between being the perfect figurehead — paws outside the bow and ears in the wind — and curling up around the picnic basket in the back.
I kept quiet, trying to put my thoughts into order. So much for the idea of a relaxing summer, I thought.
I thought about the bonfire on the hill, and I told myself that more or less all the men in the village had to be aware of its “magical” meaning, even though they didn’t talk about it. I remembered my father’s advice and the coin I’d found in the lining of my grandfather’s jacket. I tried to remember the gestures Prospero had made during the funeral, wondering which of them were used to communicate with the inhabitants of the Hollow World.
I also thought about the Borderpassers and wondered who could have gone into Cumai’s mill after she was dead. Since you had to be a Borderpasser to enter her place, whoever had found her body had to be one, too. Where had Cumai been buried? I hadn’t looked for it, but I was certain there wasn’t a freshly dug grave in the church’s cemetery.
Was this mystery was linked to Reverend Prospero’s disappearance?
And how did the Ark of the Passages play into things?
Thousands of questions like these circled in my head, but one, in particular, kept coming back to haunt me. As I looked at Aiby’s black hair flowing in the wind, I wondered if there was a magical object that could make me six months older and six inches taller.
* * *
We arrived at the Sheir Thraid reef when the sun was high in the middle of the sky — at least as bright as it could get in Scotland. Doug slowed the motor to an idle and leane
d over to check the sea floor. Stretches of clear, shallow water alternated with ominously dark, blue pools.
“Did you hear about Reverend Prospero?” my brother asked after going halfway around the reef, and then steering the boat toward it.
I shook my head. “He wasn’t in the rectory this morning,” I said. “Do you know what happened to him?”
“Who knows,” Doug said, turning off the motor and letting the current slowly push us toward the shore. “Aiby, can you pull the anchor out from under there? Just toss it out and it should hold.”
Aiby took the small anchor attached to a chain and threw it into the sea with a plop!
Doug reached into the picnic basket. Without saying anything to Aiby, he opened a can of soda. “This morning, Piper told me the Reverend went out last night to bury Cumai at sea,” he said. He took a long gulp, then added, “But he never came back.”
Aiby was standing and examining the tower with her hands on her hips. She seemed to be gauging the risks involved in jumping off the top. “What do you mean he didn’t come back?” Aiby asked without glancing back at either of us.
Doug shrugged. “No one saw him return.”
“But he went out to sea with some other men,” I pointed out.
“Yeah,” Doug said. “McStay, Everett, and McBlack went with him. So what?”
“None of them said where he was?” I asked.
Doug looked at me stubbornly. “That’s what I said,” he said, which he hadn’t actually said. Then he looked at the reef and asked, “So we’re here. Now what?”
From around sixty-five feet away, the cliff seemed little more than a big rock poking out of the surface of the water. The tower itself looked like a huge thermometer, or a giant harpoon that had been driven into the back of a giant whale. It was seventy-five feet high, give or take a few feet.
“Let’s go up,” Aiby said.
“You’re crazy,” Doug said.
Aiby smiled at him. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” she joked.
Aiby took off her plaid shirt and slipped off her jeans. Without another word, she dove into water, leaving the image of her red swimsuit burned into my retinas.
Map of the Passages: 3 (Enchanted Emporium) Page 5
