A Crack in the Sea

by H. M. Bouwman

  And what about Mai?

  • • •

  AFTER THE STORYTELLING, the people took one more vote, at the Raft King’s request, on the issue of the moving back to the first world. Like the first time, everyone voted to stay in the second world, their home.

  Mai went out walking on the water for hours—“practicing,” she said, glowing, when Thanh asked her what she was up to.

  At the dinner, Jupiter made public his desire to adopt Thanh as his apprentice and grandson—and to adopt Sang as well. He told the people at the table that he’d offered Thanh an apprenticeship, to be the next Raftworld storyteller.

  Thanh sat silent, not sure how to respond yet, while people around the table congratulated him and Jupiter and told Thanh how wonderful life was in their world.

  Sang, who’d been chatting with the young woman next to her all evening, their heads bent over the table as if they were studying together, looked up at her little brother with bright, lantern-lit eyes. She’d understood what Jupiter said, and she leaned forward to speak to Thanh in Vietnamese.

  “We should stay.” Sang pointed at Jupiter with a pencil she’d picked up somewhere. “I asked him earlier today if there were people here who did fancy sewing. And painting. And he said yes.” Sang gestured to the young woman seated next to her, the one she’d been murmuring with. “Jupiter introduced me to Chika. She’s an artist.” Suddenly Thanh realized that the two girls hadn’t only been chatting all evening. On the table between them was an open notebook, with pages of shiny paper that looked like they might be waterproof. Small illustrations dotted the pages, some of them in Sang’s intricate style, and some in a bold, spare sketching that must be Chika’s.

  “You’ve been drawing.”

  She nodded. “Chika said she’s never seen pictures like mine. She wants to know how to make them. And I’m going to learn from her. Thanh,” she said, her eyes shining, “we have a future here. Both of us.”

  Thanh turned to Jupiter and spoke in English. “I think we’ll stay.”

  5

  Putnam’s Story.

  AS THEY ATE their late dinner that evening, all in a festive group, Putnam sat to the side quietly. He didn’t eat. He listened and thought.

  After hearing the boy Thanh’s story, and after asking him about his world and finding out they would probably not be given Africa—or even a part of it—for their own, the Raftworlders had taken a formal vote, finalizing their wishes. And—not astonishingly—they did not want to go to the first world.

  Putnam wasn’t surprised; he could see which way the current moved. But he didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t know what to think. He was an adult, but he felt like a child yet again, like a part of him would always be a child, stuck in the day that his mother left. Amelia would never be back. She was gone forever—a possibility that he’d never, ever believed. She had seemed like someone who couldn’t ever die. In his mind’s eye her hair still flamed, and her lean, strong body vibrated with life.

  She had not broken her promise. She had died.

  • • •

  PUTNAM, LOST in his thoughts, sailed back to the present just in time to hear Thanh agree to stay and become Raftworld’s next storyteller. He smiled and nodded—truly happy that Jupiter’s apprentice problem was solved, and happy to think that Thanh and Sang—nice kids, both—would be joining Raftworld. Not that any of this would solve the overcrowding problems.

  Jupiter was speaking to Sang and Thanh. “You both have gifts,” he said. “But even if you didn’t, you’d be welcome here. You’d find your calling eventually.”

  Next to Putnam, the Island girl Kinchen lifted her chin, a light in her eyes, as if this meant something to her. Putnam felt his own mouth tighten. He didn’t have a calling to be king if he couldn’t even lead his people home. He wasn’t much of a leader.

  The older man, Hung, stood up, hand on his bandaged side for support, and cleared his throat several times until everyone looked at him. He said something in his own language, indicating Mai. Putnam turned to Thanh, who translated. “This child,” Thanh interpreted, “Mai, is gifted at everything. And she has magic in this world. Strong magic.”

  Mai lowered her eyes.

  “This should be her world. She should stay here, too.” Thanh’s face lit up as he translated.

  Mai looked at her uncle, and her face brightened, slowly, until Putnam thought her skin was glowing. She ran both hands through her short hair, which spiked out from her head, and spoke in English. “Yes. I love this world.” Then she turned to the stocky older man, speaking in her own language again. Even without knowing Vietnamese, Putnam knew what she was asking her uncle. “But—what about you?”

  Hung shook his head and answered in a gentle voice. Thanh translated, but Putnam understood the main point even without his help. “I can’t tell you how much I’ll miss you. But I need to go back. And so does Truc. We need to reach land in the other world—so that we can save our families someday. Get them to safety.”

  Holding his toddler in his lap, Truc nodded. “Same for me—in how much I’ll miss you and Sang,” he said to Thanh. “But my wife is waiting for me, and it sounds like this is our only chance to go through this doorway. Yes?” he asked Jupiter.

  At Thanh’s translation, Jupiter nodded.

  “But this girl should stay here,” said Hung. Turning to Mai, he added, “It’s not sure we’ll make it to land over there. And if we do, it’s a refugee camp for years, and then maybe, if we’re lucky, a move to a new country. But here you’re already in your new country. Your home. You’ve bypassed the camp. You’ll have a good life here. And magic. And you’ll be with Thanh and Sang.”

  Hearing Thanh’s translation, Putnam thought, Here you are already in your new country. Your home.

  Then he realized Jupiter was looking at him, Putnam, as if he were someone in charge, as if he were expected to say something. He cleared his throat. “You are all welcome here. Anyone who chooses to stay.”

  No one except Jupiter seemed to hear Putnam speak, and Putnam realized his words, right at this moment, weren’t important. He could say them again later, when people wanted to listen to him. Jupiter gave him one quick, almost-fatherly nod and then both men turned back to Mai and Hung.

  Mai stared at her uncle. She stood up, making them almost the same height—the tall girl and the short, stocky man.

  “You’ll miss us,” Hung said a little gruffly, “and we’ll miss you. But I think this will be best—the best life for you. So you should take it. I need to go back—and Truc, too.”

  Truc added, in a low voice to Sang and Thanh, “We’ve talked this over, Hung and me. My heart breaks to leave you two, my almost children. But your lives will be better here. You—you should stay.” He rose, picked up the toddler, cradling her bent foot, and walked off into the night, away from the feast. Sang followed him. Thanh took a few steps, then turned back and sat down between Putnam and Jupiter. “I’ll stay in case you need translating,” he muttered. Putnam nodded, grateful. Jupiter gripped the boy’s knee.

  Hung spoke to Mai. “It’s best if you stay.” In his tough, wide face, his eyes shone with tears.

  Mai nodded. “I know. It feels right. But—I’m going to miss you.” And her face, always so clear and calm, crumpled.

  Hung put his arm around her in a sideways hug and pulled her head toward his shoulder. They walked off a little way, murmuring.

  Thanh left, following after Sang and Truc and the baby.

  Putnam pondered it all. The two men and the toddler were going to go back. But Raftworld would not follow.

  Someone asked Jupiter what they’d do now—now that they weren’t going back. Jupiter glanced at Putnam, who shook his head. He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

  “We learned to live on a giant raft—our ancestors built this raft,” said Jupiter. “We’ll figure something out again, and a
dapt again. We can do it.” His glance flicked again to the Raft King; but Putnam did not answer.

  He was still thinking.

  He could go to the first world, of course, by himself. He could depart with the other travelers—Truc and Hung and the toddler. They’d probably welcome his company and his help on the voyage. He was a good sailor, after all.

  But the problem was, he wouldn’t find Amelia there. And he wouldn’t be leading his people home.

  And he could never come back.

  Putnam hadn’t spoken after the formal vote was tallied; he had simply nodded. And he didn’t say anything now, either; he just continued to nod as people talked around him. After dinner, he walked away from the lantern light to think, still nodding.

  The hydraulics chugged, and Raftworld moved closer to the open door, following a trail of bright dolphins through the moonlit night.

  6

  Caesar’s Story.

  JUST AS the sun rose bright and clear the next day, the dolphins stopped leading Raftworld and simply began circling. Raftworld’s hydraulics stopped pumping and the nation stopped, people gathering on the dock and even setting out in little rowboats to try to see the doorway.

  They were still some distance off. But on the horizon, if you squinted, you could see something. Beyond where the dolphins congregated and occasionally leapt, a patch of sky hung down like a strip of curtain that wasn’t quite the right color or texture. And if you threw back your head with your mouth open (which Caesar did, several times, braids dangling down her back), you could taste something in the air that was not exactly fresh, but saltier, with a tang of tin.

  Mai went out walking on the water again, by herself—“I want to understand how it works,” she explained to Caesar.

  “How the gift works?”

  “Yes.” She seemed serious, almost solemn.

  Everything about this doorway breathed of excitement—but what Caesar wanted was home. A real just-for-herself home. It was why she’d left Raftworld in the first place. She thought of the couple with the baskets and what they’d offered. Maybe . . .

  “I’m not happy about this plan.” Kinchen suddenly stood next to her, hands on hips. “You and Pip and—a monster.”

  “Right. The monster.” Caesar bounced on the balls of her feet. Bouncing made people think you weren’t worried. “We already agreed.”

  “I know.”

  They had talked it over with Jupiter, deciding finally that Caesar and Pip would descend together. Though each could survive underwater, they couldn’t meet with the monster without the other’s help. Caesar would anchor Pip to the ocean’s bottom, and Pip would talk with the creature.

  “I know,” Kinchen repeated. She had argument written on her face.

  “And we think the monster might be the same one who saved Thanh and everyone with him. Probably is. And might even be her—”

  “I know, but what if it isn’t? Or what if it is her—and she’s not happy to see us? We don’t know what she’s like.”

  Caesar had thought of all these things already. She was the one going down to meet the creature, after all, along with Pip. “Then we’ll charm her with our good looks!” She bounced higher, to keep the anxiety from showing in her face. “Pip will be fine—I’ll make sure of it.”

  “I’m worried about you both.” Kinchen put a slight emphasis on the last word.

  Caesar bounced a last bounce, surprised. No one had ever said they were worried about her before. Without a parent or grandparent or brother or sister—like Kinchen had, like Pip and Thanh had—she had no one who’d be sad if something bad happened to her. On Raftworld after her mom died, she’d lived with a family who’d fed her and clothed her but never let her feel like she belonged. She hadn’t visited them since she got back—and they hadn’t visited her. But now there was the couple with the apples, and Jupiter hugging her when he saw her; and now, suddenly, Kinchen was concerned about her. Her throat felt funny.

  “Pip and I will be great.” To her ears, her voice sounded a little thin. She tried to be jaunty—usually that made her feel better. “No worries. I’ve handled monsters before.” Which was, strictly speaking, true, because she’d ridden a monster to Raftworld only a few days ago. Of course, there was the possibility that this was an entirely different kind of monster.

  “I’m coming with you,” Kinchen said firmly, as if arriving at a decision. “More people is better if you’re meeting a monster. I think.”

  Caesar could tell that Kinchen wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She decided she liked that in a person. Grinning, she said, “That’ll be fantastic.”

  Pip, when informed of this decision a few minutes later, was less gracious—he seemed to think that Kinchen wanted to boss him around and protect him, and he didn’t think he needed either of those things. But when Caesar insisted, he finally agreed.

  And then Thanh announced that he’d come, too.

  “I’m going to live here,” he said as the group sprawled in the warm sun on the dock. Raftworld floated peacefully, the otherworldly patch of sky perched on the horizon in front of them. “And if I’m going to become a storyteller like Jupiter, then I should show up, if I can, for the big stories. Don’t you think?” Caesar and Pip and Kinchen had to admit he had a point.

  Jupiter, reclining on a bench nearby, waved one hand in the air, gesturing toward the doorway. “I’m a little old for this trip,” he said. “But Thanh should go. And tell us all about it when you return.”

  “We’re just going down to chat,” said Caesar. “An exploratory mission. Figure out what this thing is, and then come back and report. Preferably not get eaten,” she added under her breath.

  Pip said, “Most monsters are friendly. At least, that’s what the Kraken back home told me.”

  Hung, sitting on an overturned rowboat next to Mai, spoke—Thanh translating—“We’ll say good-bye when you return. Me and Truc and The Turtle and the Raft King.”

  They looked around. Truc and his daughter and Sang were playing farther down the dock with a wooden doll someone had given The Turtle. The Raft King was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sang? Mai?” Thanh called. “Want to come down with us? This will be your world, too, you know.”

  But Sang laughed. “No thanks,” she said. “I’ll stay up top.”

  “Mai?” Thanh grinned at her. “Want to see the monsters in your new world?”

  Mai shook her head. “I can’t sink. Remember?” But there was something more she wasn’t saying. She had a look on her sturdy face that made Caesar wonder what was wrong.

  7

  Kinchen’s Story.

  HOLDING HANDS, the four dropped into the water. As before, Kinchen held her breath for as long as she could; once again she came to accept that she didn’t need to breathe. She opened her eyes, stopped thinking about how her chest wasn’t expanding, and looked around. Thanh, on Caesar’s other hand, and Pip, on Kinchen’s other hand, were already gazing around them, heads moving in slow circles as they tried to see all they could. The four bumped gently along the bottom, and swirls of sand rose up around their knees.

  The water was shallow enough that they could see the enormous raft above and behind them, casting a giant square of shade at their backs. In front of them, brightness. Caesar looked around Kinchen to Pip, and Kinchen could hear Caesar’s thoughts as if she’d spoken. Forward?

  Pip stood still, moving his head slowly around as if listening for something Kinchen couldn’t hear. Yes.

  They walked away from the raft, toward the doorway. The living sea enveloped them, and the light above filtered down as through murky green glass. Tiny fish wriggled past their faces and bumped at their legs. Seaweed tickled them lightly. Jellyfish floated above, their tentacles dangling, but too high above them to cause worry. A small octopus exploded from a rock and jetted away. The four walked hand in hand in hand: Thanh,
Caesar, Kinchen, Pip. Caesar breathed for them; Pip led them.

  Soon they entered a valley to which they could not see the bottom. The floor slanted sharply under their feet. Pip nodded. This was the way.

  Deeper and deeper they walked, away from Raftworld and down, into darkness. But strands of light wrapped around them and encircled them, until they walked in a greenish-gray haze. The sand swirled at their ankles in a comforting way; and though they knew the water must be cold at such depth, no one shivered.

  No one could later agree on how long they had walked. It seemed much farther a distance than it had looked on the surface. Kinchen said they walked for hours; Thanh said only lengthy minutes. Pip and Caesar thought it was just long enough. Pip urged them forward and found paths up and down the hills, and eventually, at the precise right time, they came upon her, reclining on the ocean bottom like a craggy mountain. The sea monster.

  A Kraken.

  Yes, her.

  • • •

  THANH’S DESCRIPTION of the monster at the maelstrom had been patchy, focused as he was on almost dying. Now they all knew for sure: the monster who saved Thanh and his people was indeed the same monster sought by her misplaced husband. She was a Kraken, in the same way that the creature back at Tathenn, living in the Odd Bay and communing with old man Ren, was a Kraken. She undulated the same ripply pattern in the water, she held her frondlike arms with the same civility, and with her giant eye, she blinked the same deep, slow blink. In her gut, Kinchen immediately knew: this was the lost wife from Venus’s story, the mate who’d gone exploring and never returned. And here she was, sitting in the doorway between the worlds, unmoving—why?

  At the same moment, from Pip: It’s her. It’s his wife. And Caesar, whose fingers shivered in Kinchen’s own: We found her!

  Suddenly, Pip let go of Kinchen’s hand and stepped away from the group. Kinchen gasped into the sea, letting a stream of bubbles loose before Pip stopped and turned back to her. She held her arm out to him. You need to hold on.