by Kai Meyer
“You want to find that Bannon—that pirate,” he said disparagingly. “How noble!”
She stared at him and found simply no entry to his thoughts. “It isn’t so long ago that you wanted to become a pirate yourself.”
“That was before. And I was a different person.”
Jolly looked at him. Yes, he was right. He was a different person. “And do you like yourself this way?” she asked softly.
His eyes became narrow slits, and suddenly she was glad that in the dark she couldn’t see every nuance of his expression. His voice sounded cold and filled with seething fury. “It’s not about that, Jolly. It’s a vocation. Our vocation!”
Jolly got gooseflesh. Several days ago she’d still thought his transformation might go back to the death of his parents. But she’d been mistaken. It was this city and the people’s expectations that had changed him. Savior, she though coldly. Vocation.
“Do what you want,” she said. “Save the world if you think you can. I wish you luck with it.”
He seized her wrist. “We have to carry out this job together. Just us two.”
“I’m not the heroine that all these people see in me.” She tried to free her hand from his, but his grip was too strong. Jolly lowered her voice to a whisper. “Let—me—go!”
She feared that he wouldn’t give in. That he’d actually try to force her to stay in Aelenium. She readied herself to hit him in the face as hard as she could.
But then he loosened his fingers and she could move her arm freely again.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she hissed.
“I don’t want to quarrel with you, Jolly.”
“You already have.”
“Come back on land, please.” But it sounded like an order the way he said it.
“No. You get off this ship. And right now.”
Munk’s hand felt behind him, as if he were going to pull something from behind his back. But instead he fanned his outspread fingers in the direction of the mussels. Instantly a light blazed up.
He must not have to look at it anymore to create a pearl! flashed through Jolly’s head. He’s so much more powerful than I am.
Munk’s expression did not change.
The glowing pearl rose slowly out of the circle, floating higher and higher.
Had he merely been playing with her for all the past days? Letting her believe she had a chance to beat him in their absurd competitions? So that she at least tried to impress him?
“Stop that,” she said, forcing herself to be calm.
The pearl was now almost at eye level.
“Munk, quit that!”
The glow radiated more brightly, pulsating slowly. Now the pearl bathed the entire deck of the Carfax in light so that the goings-on aboard were visible far away. Probably the first watch would be alerted at once.
Jolly closed her eyes. In thought she stretched invisible hands toward the floating pearl, willed them to surround it, pluck it out of the air, and …
“Ow, damn it!”
She snapped her eyes open when her real hands suddenly felt as if they’d gotten too close to an open fire.
“That hurts, Munk!” One last time she controlled herself. “Is that what you want? To hurt me?”
“I want you to see reason.”
“Your kind of reason.”
He shook his head silently. The pearl rose higher and higher, now hung over them like a full moon.
Jolly gave one of the ghosts a wave. The phantom shot forward, not at Munk but toward the circle of mussels behind his back. The being’s foot gained mass. Then the mussel shells burst under his soles.
A high whistle sounded and the pearl turned blood red. Munk’s eyes widened in fright as he abruptly lost control over the magic. The pearl began to wobble, caught itself again, flew a loop, and rushed like a shot back toward Munk. He cried out in pain, was flung at Jolly, who tried to catch him. But the power of the blow threw them both back. Jolly groaned as she was pinned between Munk and the wheel for a moment. The wood pressed painfully into her spine.
Munk slid past her to the floor and crashed onto his knees. The pearl had gone out without causing any greater harm. But in Munk’s features there now shone such a fury that Jolly retreated in fear and again banged against the wheel.
“My mussels,” he whispered, looking up at her. His eyes were deep, dark lakes, like shadow holes in his face.
“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” she retorted. “And now, get down off this ship!”
He sprang up faster than she’d thought possible. The flat of his hand shot forward and struck hard against her breast bone. He pressed her against the wheel with all his strength.
“If Griffin hadn’t turned up,” he panted, “then everything would be the way it used to be. You’d never have attacked me … it’s all his fault.”
“You attacked me.”
“It’s because he’s so like you … that’s why you like him more than me.”
“That’s silly, Munk.”
“I thought so from the beginning. Ever since we saw him the first time, in New Providence.”
“That’s enough, Munk. Once and for all!”
She gave the ghosts the order merely with her eyes. Half a dozen of them started moving.
Munk was seized by several shadowy hands. Although he struck out around him and cursed, the ghosts bore him off the ship, back down the gangplank, and onto the pier.
“Jolly. Don’t go!”
She shook her head and saw him thrown to the ground. The landing hurt her almost as much as him, but he’d left her no other choice. Why did he have to change so?
“Don’t go!” he bellowed once again.
The anchor banged against the stern as it was pulled out of the water. Ropes were made fast. The Carfax began to shake like an animal waking from sleep.
The ghosts held Munk firmly on the ground until all was ready. Then they drifted foggily across the quay and on board and pulled up the gangplank behind them.
Munk scrambled up, but he didn’t try to follow the misty figures. His eyes were fixedly looking toward Jolly. She bent, shoved the remains of the mussels into their leather sack, which lay beside the destroyed circle on the deck, and flung them over the railing. Munk caught the bag easily, almost without looking at it.
High above the mast something fluttered. Two dark shadows let themselves down onto the yards on both sides of the topmast. Red and yellow eyes looked down toward the deck.
Jolly sensed the parrots more than she saw them. Her hands grasped the wheel, then the Carfax left the sea star point and glided out onto the sea.
“Let her go!”
The old man’s voice rang out from the pile of crates on the pier behind Munk.
“Forefather?” He turned around, but he could see no one.
“She has made her decision.”
“The wrong decision.”
“She must find that out for herself.”
“But we need her here!” Munk gave up searching the darkness for the old man’s stooping figure. He looked back at the Carfax, which had left the crowd of fishing boats behind her and was now gliding without any lights over the open water toward the black fog wall.
“The watches will not stop her,” said Forefather. “I’ve seen to that.”
“But she—she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Munk stammered despairingly.
“Oh, yes, she does, exactly. Only she cannot foresee the consequences.”
Munk had to force himself to tear his eyes from the ship. He took a step toward the shadows, half expecting to find no one there. But Forefather was indeed standing between the crates. In the dark he looked even smaller and more fragile than usual.
“I can’t go to the Crustal Breach alone,” Munk said.
Forefather’s face remained expressionless. “You used the magic against her. But far worse is that you forced her to oppose you. She did not want that. But you left her no other way out.”
“B
ut only to … to …” Munk fell silent and dropped his eyes.
“There is also some good in it,” said Forefather.
Munk snorted scornfully. “Oh, yes?”
“She is not ready yet. She’s different from you, Munk. There is a lesson that neither I nor anyone else can teach her. A lesson that you have already learned and that has given you your strength.”
Forefather raised his stick and thumped it softly on the ground at Munk’s feet. “Let her go and gam her own experiences.”
Munk could hardly breathe, the lump in his throat was so large. “What lesson do you mean?”
“Loss,” said Forefather thoughtfully. “The experience of losing something that she loves more than herself.”
10
Swallowed
“She’s gone.”
Griffin started up and turned around when he heard d’Artois’s voice behind him. He’d been leaning on the parapet of the watchtower and polishing his saber, which had been issued to him with his new soldier’s uniform. He didn’t feel comfortable in this clothing. But if he intended to make himself useful—and furthermore, to learn how to handle the sea horses and the flying rays—it wouldn’t work without the uniform. The leather was soft, and yet it pinched him under the arms. And no one could tell him the purpose of the corals decorating it.
“She’s what?” He set the saber on the parapet of the tower with a clink. A good three hundred feet below him shimmered the surface of the sea.
“Jolly is gone.” D’Artois examined him closely.
Griffin grew dizzy. “That can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is, though.”
Griffin whirled around and stared down the furrowed slopes of the sea star city and out onto the water. From up here, it looked like a pitch-black surface sparsely sprinkled with individual fire floats. D’Artois had commanded their number to be tripled in the coming nights.
“She took the Carfax,” the captain said.
Griffin still didn’t understand. “Why so early? They say her training—”
“She isn’t on her way to the Crustal Breach.”
“Where, then?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to stop her, but Forefather ordered us to let her go.” D’Artois came closer to Griffin at the ledge of the tower. “I very much hope that he knows what he’s doing.”
Griffin battled his impatience. Everything in him screamed to simply turn his back on the captain and run down to Jolly’s room to see for himself that it was all just a misunderstanding. But he controlled himself.
“Someone must know what she has in mind.”
“I thought perhaps you could give me an answer about that.”
Griffin shook his head. “She didn’t say anything to me.”
The captain placed a hand on Griffin’s shoulder and turned him halfway around toward him. “Is that true?”
“I swear it.” Griffin shifted restively from one foot to the other. Jolly was leaving the city and he was standing around and talking.
D’Artois sighed, and now he, too, looked out into the darkness. From up here the fire floats looked scarcely bigger than the individual stars in the sky.
“Have you any idea how hard it is for me to obey Forefather in this matter?” D’Artois put the question without waiting for an answer. “Especially since he has no authority to command. But I respect him and his decisions. He is…”
“Wise?” suggested Griffin.
“More than that. He’s the soul of Aelenium. There’s no one here who is more important for the city and its task.”
Griffin pricked up his ears. “In the council he didn’t seem to be especially … important. No one paid very much attention to him.”
D’Artois smiled, but he gave no explanation. Instead he bent over the ledge and stared down into the darkness.
“You know, for years they’ve told us the polliwogs would save Aelenium if the Maelstrom ever attacked. When it got serious, we all waited for them to finally turn up. There were some who even prayed to them, can you imagine that? And then, out of nowhere, appeared these two children—no offense, Griffin—and we’re supposed to believe that they’re our saviors. That’s certainly hard enough. And when we’ve finally accepted it and said to ourselves, good, they are the ones, they’ll save us, then one of them suddenly runs away. Just like that.” D’Artois’s eyebrows came together, his face darkened. “And I could stop her. But now I’m supposed to let her go … and thus perhaps seal the fate of this city.”
“There’s still Munk,” said Griffin, while an icy hand clutched at his heart. “Or did he go with her?”
“No,” said d’Artois, and for that Griffin could have hugged him. “Munk is in the city. Forefather is looking after him.”
“Perhaps it will be enough if Munk goes to the Crustal Breach alone. He’s the more powerful of the two of them. Jolly has said that more than once.”
“Maybe.” The captain’s hands curled around the edge of the parapet as if they wanted to break a piece out of it. “But according to my sense of it, we need both of them down there. Munk may possibly have more power—whatever that means. I understand too little of magic and all those things. But in his eyes I see things that I … I don’t know … that I can’t reconcile. Wanting to be admired, and arrogance—and yes, of course, power also, in a certain way. In the eyes of your friend, however, there is much more: humanity and warmth and enough courage to win this whole damned war with. I described her before as a child, but that was wrong. She may look like one, but inside … there’s much more concealed in her. Things that I don’t see in Munk.” He heaved another sigh. “And therefore, Griffin, it’s of no importance to me what the others say about his capabilities. All hollow magic, I say. What matters is what’s in here.” He pointed to his heart. “That’s the power we need. And of that, Jolly has more than he does.”
“I know what you mean.” Griffin missed her more with each of the captain’s sentences. The idea that she was gone almost strangled him. Why hadn’t she taken him with her? Why had she left without even saying good-bye?
“I cannot call her back,” said the captain, and this time there was an odd tone in his words. “I’ve promised to obey Forefather, and I will do that. Perhaps another, someone who might possibly disobey my order, would … but not I myself.”
Again their eyes met. Griffin’s heart was racing.
“How would it be if I took over your watch up here?” asked the captain.
“You want—you mean—”
Another look, then d’Artois again turned to the panorama of the night. “I need quiet to think. This is a good place for it. I come up here often, especially at night. You are free to go to bed, if you want.”
Griffin seized his saber, shoved it into his belt, and rushed over to the steps. A thousand thoughts were shooting through his head at the same time. To go to bed … he understood only too well what d’Artois meant.
At the steps he stopped again for a moment, stammered a half-swallowed “Yes, sir!” and then jumped down the stairs. He had the feeling that d’Artois was looking after him out of the corner of his eye. And smiling.
The number of steps seemed to him to be increasing by themselves—there’d never been so many before. Griffin kept taking three at once, finally even four.
When he got down, he ran through the deserted streets down the mountain. No candles burned behind most windows; it was shortly before midnight and the people had gone to bed. For most of them the next day would again be filled with a thousand tasks that the approaching siege brought with it: filling and piling up sandbags in the most important defense positions; building protective walls; storing emergency rations in the houses but also in the shelters deep under the city; sharpening all kinds of blades; cleaning gun and pistol barrels.
Griffin looked neither to the right nor left. His thoughts were centered on Jolly, on her smile, on how her skin had felt under the tattoo, on her voice and the sparkle in her eyes when she teased him. And on what l
ay ahead of her: her path in the darkness at Munk’s side.
It was this last thought that made him hesitate in front of the entrance to the stables. He stopped, tried to catch his breath, and leaned on one hand on the doorpost. Did he want to bring Jolly back to Aelenium at all? Did he really want her to go down to the Crustal Breach on a mission that might cost her her life?
Maybe she’d done the right thing when she turned her back on the city. This way she’d soon be out of danger. And that was what mattered, after all. What mattered to him.
But then a conviction slipped into his thoughts, sobering him in an instant. Jolly was no coward. She wouldn’t run away, not even from the Maelstrom and the Crustal Breach. If she’d left Aelenium, there was something else behind it. Something that had nothing to do with fear and most certainly was no less dangerous.
He entered the stables and ran down the middle walkway. Despite the night hours, the grooms were at work. Some of them had to be on duty at all times because of the patrols. They looked at Griffin in amazement as he ran as if the Devil were after him to the pool where his own sea horse was sleeping with eyes open.
He clumsily set about saddling him until one of the more experienced grooms came to help. The man asked no questions, it wasn’t his place; but his frown made it clear that the boy’s late departure made him mistrustful.
A few minutes later Griffin was under way. He turned his sea horse beneath one of the arches to the sea and splashed out over the dark water, past the flaming fire floats bobbing like buoyant pyres on the waves.
The night was warm and moist in the Caribbean at this time of the year. Yet the humidity of the day had subsided. Griffin noticed how very much easier it was to breathe freely at this hour. In spite of his task, in spite of the worry about Jolly, an irrepressible feeling of freedom came over him. He was riding out entirely alone for the first time, and the power of the wonderful creature under him seemed to carry over to him. He felt as if he were reborn.
Before he reached the fog and everything grew dark around him, he looked back over his shoulder to the city and tried to locate the tower where he’d stood with d’Artois a little while before. But he didn’t find it quickly enough. Already the first patches covered his vision, and then suddenly it became so dark that for a long moment he was overwhelmed with panic.
