That was all Brine needed to hear. She started forward, but a pair of arms grabbed her round the middle. The ghosts of her parents vanished back into the sea. Brine yelled, kicked, and heard a familiar yelp of pain behind her. She swung round, her fists raised, and stopped when she realized she was staring straight into Peter’s face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.
He dropped his gaze and pointed.
Brine looked behind her. She was right on the edge of the ship. Another step would have taken her overboard.
“It must have been good, whatever you were seeing,” said Peter.
“Not really.” She stumbled past him and leaned against the mast, her legs trembling. The Onion had slowed almost to a stop, and around the deck, the crew were stirring as if they were just waking up and weren’t sure where they were. Marfak West waited at the helm, an impatient frown on his face.
“If you’ve quite finished rescuing your silly friends,” he said, “we have a job to finish.”
Peter’s cheeks flushed.
“You’d better do it,” said Brine. “We should get out of here.” She reached for him as he turned to go. “Thanks,” she added.
Peter cast her a smile and went back to Marfak West. Brine’s knees gave way, and she slid down onto the deck. She hadn’t really seen her parents, she knew. The storm had affected her and made her see what she wanted to see. The only part of it that was real at all was when Peter had dropped everything to save her life.
Tom joined her, looking shaken. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s not your fault. What did you see?”
“Lightning, and some shapes that looked like birds, only bigger, and one of them breathed fire at me like a dragon.” Tom scratched his nose, frowning. “Then I saw you walking to the edge of the ship, and Peter ran and grabbed you. I don’t think Marfak West was very happy.”
Brine rested her head on her knees. “I thought I saw my parents, just for a minute.” She heaved a sigh.
“You’ll find them,” said Tom.
“I know. When we get to Magical North. I’ll look for them, find out where they are now. Then I’ll go and find them in person.”
“I can help,” said Tom. “Barnard’s Reach has all the stories of the world collected together. They’re bound to have something about people being abandoned at sea.”
It was nice of him to offer. “Maybe,” said Brine. She didn’t add “I hope so,” because hoping for something seemed to be the quickest way to make sure it never happened.
The Onion continued onward as Peter guided them. A short time later, the wind picked up, but it seemed to be urging them on now instead of knocking them from side to side. A patch of pale light appeared on the deck—real, pure sunlight. The crew cheered. It was ragged and exhausted, but a cheer nevertheless.
* * *
Peter heard the cheers, but he didn’t take his gaze off the starshell, not until the clouds broke and the Onion burst through the far edge of the storm into sunlight. Only then did he lower his hands and look around. Brine and Tom were sitting by the mainmast. Trudi was trying to bandage Bill Lightning’s broken nose, while Rob Grosse and Tim Burre cleared away severed ropes. For all the attention the crew paid Peter, he might as well not have been there.
Cassie sheathed her cutlass. “Well done, Peter.” She left him with Marfak West and went to check on Bill.
“Get used to it,” said Marfak West. “They’ll pull you out when they need something, but they’ll never trust you. Your magic makes you better than them, and they know it, so you’ll never be one of them.” He turned toward Ewan Hughes, who was approaching, his face like thunder. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Hughes?”
Ewan seized the magician by the arms. “I wasn’t listening. You’re going back in your cage, where you belong.”
Marfak West met Peter’s gaze as the pirate pulled him away. “See what I mean? They’re afraid of what we might do together, so they have to keep us apart. Don’t worry, though—they’ll want us both again soon enough. We haven’t reached the sea monster yet.”
Peter turned his back on him, trying to pretend he didn’t care that all the crew were talking but no one was talking to him. He hoped Marfak West was joking about the sea monster, but he had a nasty feeling that Marfak West didn’t tell jokes. He pushed through everyone to the side of the ship and stood, feeling slightly sick. He tried not to notice how the rest of the crew avoided looking at him, and how Rob Grosse and Tim Burre started whispering the moment he turned his back. Marfak West was right—he was never going to fit in, not really, and it was about time he got used to it.
Someone touched him on the shoulder, and he turned and saw Brine. She looked different, and it took him a moment to work out why—she was smiling at him, smiling as if she actually like him. Then she sniffed and stifled a sneeze. “That was really brave when you grabbed me,” she said. “Stupid, but brave. We could have gone off course, back into the storm.”
“I didn’t really think about it.” Peter kicked the edge of the deck. The empty hollow inside him began to fill up with the slow realization that maybe he did have at least one friend on board, after all. He didn’t want to think about it; he didn’t want to think at all. He wanted everyone to be wrong—that was what he was trying not to think, and, typically, the effort of not thinking about something brought that thing straight into his mind. Once, Marfak West was just a name in a story and the name had scared Peter so much he couldn’t sleep at night. Not anymore. Now Peter thought he understood the magician a little, and even liked him a little. And that one thought scared him more than the name Marfak West ever had.
CHAPTER 20
You can sail at your leisure to seek out great treasure
But I’ve got a better idea.
Stay home in your bed and dream gently instead
Of a wonder called Cassie O’Pia.
Her beauty exceeds all that anyone needs,
Her eyes set the morning aglow.
For one chance to see her, fair Cassie O’Pia,
A man would walk naked through snow.
(From THE BALLAD OF CASSIE O’PIA, Verses 184–185, Author Unknown)
The Onion sailed through waters that were definitely choppy, but not in a violent, deliberate way. It was more like the sea was giving a nudge now and then to remind the crew it could still capsize the ship if it wanted to. Peter wondered if he could give the sea a shove back and decided it was best just to let his starshell recover for now.
The days continued to lengthen, and the temperature dropped as they traveled, the sun taking permanent cover behind the clouds. A few times, Peter spotted whales following the ship, and the wind sharpened until it cut through several layers of clothing. Cassie loaned Brine a sweater, and Ewan Hughes gave Peter an old coat that was much too big but did help keep the cold out.
At last, the air became so cold and dry that it hurt to breathe, and all the crew were fighting to get under the remaining blankets. The sky faded to a ghostly green that never changed or grew dark. Flashes of brighter colors twisted overhead from time to time.
“The Stella Borealis,” said Tom, looking up at them. He sat on an upturned bucket, writing. “Northern starlight. Boswell called it the Magus Borealis because he said it’s caused by magic flaring off the world into the sky.”
Peter hooked another bucket round and sat down next to him, huddling into his coat. Tom, in contrast, seemed to be sitting up straighter every day. He’d stopped hunching over as if he was afraid he’d touch something and break it, and his voice, though still quiet, had lost the library whisper.
Peter put his hands in his pockets. He’d wrapped the three starshell pieces up together. They were regaining magic faster than he’d anticipated—an effect of being so far north, he guessed—and the cloth around them was already starting to fray. Soon, he’d have to find another bunch of rags to wrap them in.
“What was it like growing up in a library?” he asked Tom.
&
nbsp; Tom thought a moment. “Imagine that you live in a place where you’re not allowed to run or talk or play. Now imagine that you’ve only got old ladies for company.”
Peter imagined and shuddered. Tom nibbled the end of his pen. “Stories are full of people who are the odd ones out when they’re growing up but turn into heroes. I used to pretend that I was a magician and one day I’d find some starshell and save the world.”
“It’s not that great being a magician,” said Peter. “Back home, I had to do all the jobs Tallis Magus didn’t want. And copy out spellshapes—a lot. I was on my own, apart from Brine, and she was only the servant.” He shifted uncomfortably, remembering how he’d ordered her around. “You can see if you’re a magician if you like,” he offered. He took the starshell out of his pocket. “You just have to hold the starshell and try to feel the magic inside.”
Tom snatched his hands back. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to be a news-scribe instead—one who travels the world.”
Peter didn’t blame him. Sometimes he wished that he’d never put his hand on starshell and found out what he could do. And sometimes it seemed to be the only thing in the world that mattered.
He saw Ewan Hughes approaching, and he groaned inwardly. A few of the crew had stopped what they were doing and were casually edging closer, too.
What now? “Whatever it is,” said Peter, “it isn’t my fault.”
“It’s not that,” said Ewan. He kept his hands behind his back. “The thing is, me and the crew noticed how you don’t have anywhere safe to keep your starshell, and … well. We got together and made something for you.”
He thrust a box out at Peter.
Peter blinked at it. He reached out and took it, still believing this was a trick. Lifting the lid, he saw that the inside was lined with gold and silver coins, all hammered flat and overlapping like fish scales.
“We all chipped in,” said Ewan. “We made it bigger than you need, too. You know, in case you find any more starshell.”
A warm feeling spread in Peter’s chest. The crew were all looking at him, and Peter spotted something in their faces he hadn’t seen before. A certain pride and a wary respect. Had that been there all along, and he’d just never noticed? The warmth in his chest spread up to his cheeks.
“Uh, thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” Ewan stood for a moment, frowning as if he wasn’t quite sure what else he should say. Peter’s shoulders sagged in relief when the pirate walked away. He put the starshell pieces in the box, laid their gold chain on top of them, and closed the lid. He could still feel the magic in his fingertips. “Have you ever wished,” he asked Tom, “that people would just want you for who you are and not for what you can do?”
“I don’t know,” said Tom. “I can’t do much.”
“That’s not true. You’re good at finding things out—and writing them down.”
Tom reached for the inkpot.
“Are you writing this conversation down?” asked Peter.
Tom’s cheeks colored. “I’m supposed to be composing a firsthand account. I want to record everything.”
“It’s all right. Write what you like.” Peter looked around and saw Brine standing on her own at the front of the ship. Once, he’d thought she was only Tallis Magus’s servant. How could he have thought Brine was only an anything? He stood up. “I just need to…” He wasn’t sure what he needed to do, but Tom was already engrossed in writing again.
Brine was watching the sea through a telescope. She lowered it when Peter joined her and gave him a curious look, halfway between a smile and a frown, as if she wasn’t sure what he was going to say or whether she was going to like it.
“The crew gave me a present,” said Peter, holding up the box for her to see.
Brine nodded. “I saw. Are you all right? You don’t look well.”
“I think so. I…” He took a breath. “I wanted to say sorry.”
Brine’s face filled up with surprise so fast that Peter almost laughed. He tucked the starshell box under his arm and pushed his hands in his pockets. “I should have been nicer to you. I never thought before what it must have been like not knowing where you came from, and then ending up as Magus’s servant. I could have helped more.” He gave a rueful grin. “Though you weren’t the easiest person to live with. Remember when you used to throw things at me?”
“You deserved it.” Brine returned his smile. “On the other hand, I do keep dragging you into trouble, and you’ve never thrown anything at me for that. Truce?”
“Truce,” he agreed.
They shook hands. Peter heaved a sigh. “I hope the crew aren’t too disappointed when they find out what a bad magician I am.”
“They won’t find out,” said Brine. “Because you’re not a bad magician. You’re a lot better than you think. Tallis Magus never let you do anything. All you did was copy out boring spellshapes. And how many spellshapes did Tallis know by heart, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Twenty or thirty, I guess. He usually got me to look them up.”
“There you are, then. He was, what, fifty years old, and he knew thirty spellshapes? That’s less than one a year. It’s no wonder you weren’t learning a lot. You had a useless teacher.”
That was exactly what Marfak West had said, but when Brine said it, it sounded true. “I’m still only an apprentice, though,” he said, “and now I have no one to teach me.”
“I’m not sure you need anyone.” Brine frowned. “You know that doctor on Minutes who painted seascapes? He didn’t have to think about every tiny movement the brush was making—he just knew how he wanted the waves to look, and he made it happen. Back in the storm, when you were guiding the ship, you looked like an artist painting with magic. Like you knew exactly what you were doing.”
If he had, it had been thanks to Marfak West, Peter thought, but he felt lighter, as if some weight he’d been carrying around had just lifted. “Marfak West isn’t looking for Magical North,” he said. “There’s something else there that he wants.”
Brine’s frown deepened. “Does Cassie know?”
“Yes, I told her. She thinks we’ll be able to beat him when the time comes.”
“If Cassie thinks so, I’m sure it’ll be all right. We can trust her.”
Cassie was standing at the helm. She waved when she saw Peter looking. Peter waved back. The fact that she’d first tried to sell him and then to use him to spy on Marfak West didn’t seem to matter so much now. Blaming Cassie for anything was a bit like blaming the wind for blowing.
“We’ll find Magical North,” said Peter. “We’ll find your parents, we’ll defeat Marfak West, and people will sing songs about us all over the eight oceans.”
“According to Boswell, we have to get past the sea monster first,” Brine said.
Peter grinned. “After the ghost storm? It’ll be easy.”
“Ice ahoy!” shouted Ewan Hughes.
* * *
The sea couldn’t freeze—it was impossible. Peter knew it for a fact. There was too much water, and it was full of salt, which melted ice. But, possible or not, the way ahead was busy with jags of pure white, taller than mountains. Peter stood and watched them move. They swayed like the coils of a great sea monster, a thousand times more terrible than the Dreaded Great Sea Beast of the South.
Tom leafed through Boswell’s book. “Boswell talked about ice. First the Sea of Sighs, which we’ve done. Then you have to find your way past the sea monster. Then there’s a tunnel leading up to a cavern. He must mean down to a cavern.” He looked up. “I guess this is the sea monster.”
“How can ice be a monster?” asked Trudi.
Flat plates of ice floated all around, gently drifting out of the way as the Onion nosed by. A black-and-white bird popped out of the water and scrambled onto one of them, staring at the ship with orange eyes. Peter stared back. If birds could shrug, this one did—dismissively.
“The northern seas are home to many strange creatures,” re
ad Tom. “Some of them are said to taste like chicken, although most of them will eat you first. Beware the birds, and look out for invisible bears.”
“Invisible bears,” said Cassie. “We’ve fought bears before. It could be worse.”
Peter wished everyone would be quiet so he could think. With every second that passed, the Onion was taking them closer to Magical North. The end of the voyage for Cassie and the start of Marfak West’s plans. Peter had a nasty feeling that when Cassie and Marfak West clashed, he was going to be caught right in the middle. He took his starshell out of its box and held it up. The three pieces glowed with amber magic.
“Can you put that away?” asked Brine, sneezing. Peter did, but he could still feel the pieces prickling impatiently. He watched the ice draw closer. Great lumps of it bobbed up to the Onion as if they were curious about the unexpected presence of a ship. No one spoke, and now Peter wished someone would, just to break the silence. Cassie stood with a rigid frown of concentration on her face as she eased the Onion into the spaces that still contained water.
Another black-and-white bird slid off the ice into the sea with a little plop. It was followed by a bigger splash that could have been anything. Peter looked back and saw a tail break the surface of the water in the distance. If whales and birds could survive in this sea, it couldn’t be too bad. But the ice was now closing in behind them. Peter watched it drift into the ship’s wake. Any one of the pieces was big enough to crush the Onion.
“You do know that very soon we won’t be able to turn back,” he said. “Even if we wanted to.”
Cassie stared straight ahead. “The Onion never turns back. The stars will fall out of the sky before we accept defeat.”
“Stars can’t fall,” said Tom. “They’re balls of burning gas and rock, thousands of miles across. If one of them fell, we’d all know about it.” He looked up, caught Cassie’s gaze, and blushed. “Though not for long,” he added.
Eventually, the ship came to a halt against a semicircle of sparkling, frozen pillars. The only way on was through a corridor of green water barely wider than a rowing boat.
The Voyage to Magical North Page 13
