Silverworld

by Diana Abu-Jaber

  “She was Shadow-burnt,” Natala said regretfully, then murmured, “bold, brave thing.”

  Brave, thought Dorsom. Through and through and through.

  Sami flashed on a memory of light whisking and chittering as the Nixie raged full of lightning. Her vision softened with tears. “She was my guide—more than once. She was there when I arrived on Castle Isle, the last steps of the way. She showed me—” Her voice broke off as she dashed away tears with her knuckles.

  The mermaid’s big hand closed around the bat, and the small, fox-faced animal transformed into its broken human form, her glowing hair spilling over the mermaid’s arm, pale blue lids shut over her eyes, a single white bolt like a slash of paint crossing her hair, face, and chest.

  For a moment there was only the distant sound of Flicker and Shadow creatures celebrating and cheering on the lawns. Then Ashrafieh nodded at the mermaid and thought, In the Actual World, she would be gone and done. But the mermaid believes some shreds of her Shadow hover here still. I feel some force yet as well—though it too has gone very far and will soon be done.

  The mermaid turned her diamond eyes to Sami with a bit of caution and delicacy as Ashrafieh explained: She proposes to take her to the Old Kingdom—to see if they would call her back.

  “She would do such a thing?” Dorsom asked reverently. “That’s no small matter, the act she speaks of.”

  The mermaid touched the tip of a finger to Sami’s face and her tears turned to a sort of powder that drifted away. Ashrafieh translated for the mermaid: I owe the Silverwalker a life and such gratitude.

  Sami’s eyes filled again, though this time with joy. “Oh, if you thought you could save her! I can’t even tell you—”

  She can’t save her in the manner you’re thinking of, Samara, Ashrafieh cautioned.

  “Bat is gone from our Worlds forever,” Dorsom said. “But in the Old Kingdom, her spirit might live on, playing and singing and adventuring, with others gone away. She would know and remember us, and even sometimes she might send us messages from the Kingdom.”

  Natala touched Sami’s arm. “And there are yet other obstacles—for you, Sami. When this gloaming is over, the last of the portals will be destroyed—the Nixie’s work is coming all undone.”

  “It’s true—the paths between Worlds are dissolved,” Ashrafieh agreed. “It is the work of years to rebuild them.”

  “While I would rather keep Sami with us,” Dorsom said, “isn’t it true that the ways between the Worlds become one within the ocean? That in the greatest depths, there is another portal, far away, in the mermaid singing fields?”

  “They were the gatekeepers to the hidden Silverskinned—a mirror they called the GlassWater,” Natala added.

  Sami remembered Teta telling her of the “silvery mirrors” of desert oases and mirages of water and secret doorways that travelers would stumble after for miles in the hot sand, never reaching them. All reflections—Teta had said—of the same one true doorway, buried somewhere in the sea—the water that all the deserts and desert dwellers remembered and longed for.

  The mermaid nodded. She lifted a finger to Sami’s brow, and Sami felt something fizzing lightly around her head and chest. She looked up, startled and delighted. New energy spiraled up from the soles of her feet, winding around her legs and arms and expanding her ribs. Her bones strengthened; she felt clearer and lighter, as if she’d grown feathers—or gills. “Wow,” she murmured. “What was that? I really—I feel different.”

  The mermaid flexed her tail, one strong arm slung over the edge of the fountain.

  Ashrafieh stroked Sami’s arm. No time for unbelief. The Ifrit must return to water, so you’d best say goodbye to your friends now.

  Sami blinked. “Right this minute? We’re going now?”

  Come with her now or nevermore, granddaughter, Ashrafieh said. And she shall lead you home.

  There was a sweet, sad look in Dorsom’s eyes—as if he felt he was about to lose his best friend. Sami knew it was time, this was the return home that she had longed for, and yet now she didn’t want to do it. She looked to Natala and Ashrafieh, each of them gazing at her with the same mix of love and sadness. “I mean—I know—I’ll come back to visit for sure,” she blurted, giving Ashrafieh, then Natala, a tight hug.

  Sami couldn’t look at Dorsom when he approached with his arms out. She stared at her feet through a glaze of tears. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “No such of a thing as goodbye in Silverworld,” Dorsom said. “We say: I you shall see again.”

  Sami slowly lifted her eyes to his and saw them fill with indigo light. She said, her voice breaking, “I you shall see again,” then hugged him.

  He squeezed her tightly, and she felt something seem to glow between their chests, as if their heartbeats were echoing each other.

  Just look in the mirror, Dorsom thought, using the Actual World word, mirror, his forehead pressed to hers, and I shall be there.

  I will look for you, Sami thought, always.

  They released each other, then studied each other’s faces for a long moment, and Sami was once again startled by the sensation of looking at her reflection.

  Ashrafieh’s thoughts broke into her own: Samara, it is time.

  Sami nodded and put her hand in the mermaid’s much larger one. “Goodbye, beautiful Silverworld,” she said, then stopped. “I you shall see again,” she corrected herself. “All of you.”

  Dorsom only smiled and nodded. “I you shall see again. And again. And again…”

  With that, Sami followed the mermaid, who had eased herself into the grand fountain. There was a stone pillar at its center, which, Sami remembered, had once held a sorrowful cherub spouting water. When she slung her feet in, she was startled by the cold and depth of the water—it went nearly to her chest. She gulped air, expecting to feel the familiar old panic seize her. But nothing happened. The mermaid smiled and nodded, then, with Bat in one hand, she seized Sami with the other. Sami felt a quick downward tug, and Silverworld turned into a rainbow of color dancing on the watery surface over her head.

  Breathe!

  The mermaid’s thought was gentle, almost silky, as they glided through the water. Sami’s vision was nearly as clear as it was on land, and she realized the mermaid seemed transformed, her body glittering with blue luminescence, her hair bright. Yet, oddly, she also appeared somehow more human—smaller, softer, even motherly. She swam a spiral around Sami, sending circles of brilliance through the water as she did.

  Breathe.

  Sami blinked. There was no way she’d thought-heard the mermaid correctly. Breathe?

  The mermaid turned and slowly nodded. She was telling Sami to breathe.

  I can’t breathe water, Sami protested. I’ll drown!

  But the mermaid closed her eyes and shook her head. You won’t.

  Even though she marveled at her new ability to swim with such grace, she couldn’t imagine trying to inhale. Her chest was locked in place, her throat closed off, as the mermaid swept her hands over her own throat.

  Breathe, breathe.

  After a few more moments of swimming, the need for air began to press; her lungs ached. Sami took one last glance at the surface, the glowing sea fans and winking scarlet fish—if she was about to die, she supposed, this was the loveliest place she could imagine doing it. Her lips trembled, and her chest burned.

  Then she noticed something like a dance of color in the water. She looked up into a pink tangle of leaves or vines or…tentacles.

  Rotifer?

  A lilt sped through the water like an ocean current. They were swimming inside the clear mantle of the Rotifer.

  All will be well. The great creature’s thought shivered through her mind.

  Sami was filled with a sense of reassurance and well-being. Her che
st relaxed, and crisp Silverworld water entered her nose and throat. And, again, nothing happened.

  She took another, larger breath—water rushed in, expanding like air, and she realized it was true: she could breathe the Silverworld ocean. It was thicker than air, but she quickly adjusted. Her lungs filled and emptied, and she felt strong and fearless—as if inhaled seawater were just the nutrient she’d always needed.

  Sami let go of the mermaid’s hand, put her own palms together, then pushed them apart, shooting through crystalline seaweeds and lilac urchins. The mermaid smiled at her across schools of celadon fish. So this is what it means to swim, Sami thought, stroking, then twining and twisting through the water. I love it.

  They swam side by side, Sami and the mermaid, protected by the Rotifer cape. In the crook of the Ifrit’s arm, Bat’s blue hair spiraled in the water. They passed through plains of sea fans, reefs, corals, and starfish, through plant life that grew up from the ocean floor as thick as forests, past schools of laughing dolphins and staring pink hammerheads, around the rainbow spines of lionfish, around bioluminescent deep-sea creatures, and under the marigold belly of a whale. At some point in their journey, long after Sami lost track of time, she realized they were slowing down.

  Finally, the mermaid pointed beyond the transparent mantle, through strands of seaweed. Squinting, Sami saw what looked like a deeper, round section of water: it glittered, and she couldn’t see anything within.

  The portal. Sami hesitated, then swam to Bat’s side. She seemed to be sleeping, her hair swirling all around her limbs. What will happen to her?

  The mermaid gazed silently at the drifting form.

  I hope she’ll return, Sami thought, touching the bat’s hair. She was the truest friend.

  The mermaid lifted her diamond eyes to Sami.

  And me? Sami couldn’t help wondering. What will happen to me?

  The Ifrit carefully placed her hand on the top of Sami’s cranium, and again she felt spangling brightness run through her, powdery sparks flying from her fingertips. It felt like a gift, though one without a name or meaning.

  Silverwalker. The Rotifer’s voice rippled down from above, surrounding. Nixie is destroyed, your destiny fulfilled. If ever you should need of us, imagine my name and I shall respond.

  Glistening colors spilled down over Sami’s head and arms. Her heart filled with courage and her breath deepened. It was time to go.

  The mermaid and Sami slipped out from under the lip of Rotifer’s mantle. Sami swam backward a moment, waving up at the great creature as three of its tentacles fanned through the water. Farewell and good health, brave Silverwalker! I thou shall see again.

  She returned to the mermaid’s side. Before them, the portal swirled and pulsed, red, then clear, like a whirlpool in the ocean’s floor.

  Sami hesitated before it. Tentatively, she reached toward the unlit opening. It felt wetter and heavier than the surrounding water, yet somehow familiar; there was a scent of something sweet and earthly. Suddenly she had a memory of lying on warm sand, counting clouds alongside her brother, a soft wind billowing over their heads. She felt a piercing longing for the clear skies and water of Coconut Shores.

  She turned to the mermaid and bowed. Goodbye. Goodbye, Silverworld. The mermaid smiled fiercely, showing her bluish-white teeth, her spiraling locks and silk wrappers, and sent her arms out wide. Then Sami was being swept off her feet, the portal drinking her in one gulp. As she was tossed through a cascade of bubbles and froth, Flicker voices rang back to her: I you shall see again.

  Collapsed, not breathing. Wet and not wet. Lying on her side, turning. The sun bright and hot.

  Air, heavy and fragrant, rushed into her lungs, and Sami’s chest expanded. She gasped and coughed, twisted onto her hands and knees, sputtering water, head lowered. Very gradually, she caught her breath, slowly realizing she could breathe normally again.

  Sami rolled back to sitting. Pulling wet hair out of her face, she looked around. She was on a gentle slope of wet sand, waves rolling and breaking just a few feet away. Home. She stood cautiously and felt the mixture of Silverworld and Actual World waters evaporating from her clothes and skin.

  The sky was a cloudless sapphire, and white birds arced over the ocean. Shielding her eyes, Sami admired the way the sand itself seemed to mirror the sunshine. She was standing on a short stretch of beach just a few blocks from their house. The sand felt warm and soft, with the familiar substance of the Actual World. It was good to stretch her sore muscles, to feel the humid air. The early-morning sun felt like a kiss on her head.

  She realized, as she walked, that she was happy. Her chest rose with gratitude, and she inhaled the scent of gardenias. How she’d missed her home! Home was the place where her family was, but it was also this place: it had grown roots inside her—almost without her noticing. Florida had become a part of her and she was a part of it.

  Tony was sitting on the couch as she walked in. He wore his usual shorts and T-shirt, but there was a blanket crumpled around and under him and his hair stuck straight up.

  “Well, hello.” She laughed, hands on her hips. “I guess you slept there all night?”

  “Sami!” He jumped up and swooped his arms around her. “Oh, Sami, oh thank God.”

  Sami laughed with surprise, but hugged her brother back. “You missed me? For real?”

  “What the heck? Where were you last night? What happened to you?” He took hold of her arms. “Wait a second. Man, look at you—it’s like you grew overnight.”

  “Ha, good imagination,” she said with a smile, and headed for the stairs. “Is Mom in her office?”

  “Wait—where are you going?”

  Sami started up the stairs. “I need to talk to Mom—and Teta, too.”

  “Sami, they’re not here.” Tony stood at the base of the stairs.

  Something in his voice made her stop. She turned and looked at her brother before taking two steps down. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head and Sami realized he was having trouble answering. Her pulse begin to throb in her throat. “Is Teta okay? What’s wrong, Tony?”

  He shook his head again and finally said, “She’s—she had a pretty bad night. Almost like she was having trouble breathing. She was tossing in bed and sort of moaning. I’d swear I heard her say something about falling—twice. It was the first thing she’s said in, like, forever that I’ve been able to understand.”

  “She said she was falling?” A shiver ran down Sami’s spine. She felt the deep plunge into the Nixie’s void again.

  “I’m not exactly sure—but it was scary. Lots of groaning and twisting around in bed. I guess she’s feeling better now.”

  Sami frowned. “You guess? Tony, please, where is Teta?”

  He lowered his eyes. “Mom took her—pretty early this morning. It was still dark out. To that place. That home?” He lifted his eyes. “I guess she didn’t want to upset us—they kind of snuck out. She doesn’t know you weren’t in your room last night. I covered for you—said you were doing homework,” he added in a low voice. “Mom texted a little while ago and said they thought it would be easier on everyone if they just got Teta settled in first and then we could go visit.”

  “What’s the name of the place again?” She was already at the front door.

  “Hold up! Where are you going?” Tony scuffed on his flip-flops.

  “To get Teta!”

  He followed her out the front door. “There’s nothing we can do, you know. They don’t want us hanging around right now.”

  Sami turned to him. “Do you know the way? To the nursing home place?”

  He lifted his arms and let them flop against his sides. “Yeah, it’s off Breezeway Ave. But what are you doing? How are we supposed to get over there?”

  Sami looked at him like he was a little slow. “We’ve got bikes, remember?”r />
  Tony followed her into the garage. “It’s all the way across town!”

  “So? It’s a small enough town.” Sami climbed on her bike, threw her lock into her basket, and took off. “Keep up!” she shouted over one shoulder.

  She flew over curbs, over the cracked sidewalks of their neighborhood, and under the wide, flat canopies of the poinciana trees. Pretty soon she could hear the whir of Tony’s bike just behind her. “How are you biking like this?” he panted.

  Sami squinted through the sunlight and wind as they moved into the bicycle lane and sailed under the long, narrow shadows of palm trees and condos. It occurred to her as she pedaled that not so very long ago, she probably wouldn’t have done such a thing—just hopped on her bike and ridden. She might’ve waited for a city bus to take her, but she never would have weaved and dodged, circled around car doors and little dogs on leashes and old men curved over their walkers. Now she almost felt sorry for her old self—how timid she used to be and how much she missed out on because of it. As she pumped, her senses raced, spotting each obstacle, darting to the fastest path. Sami took her bike over an especially high curb and sliced through a puddle, throwing spray. She called back to Tony, “Watch out for that one.”

  When she didn’t hear an answer, she twisted on her seat and realized her brother was about eight blocks behind her, puffing as he pedaled and shouted directions.

  We’re coming, Teta! She tried to push her thoughts through the air, as she had in Silverworld. Hang on.

  She zigzagged across a great gray sea of parking lots, up to the automatic glass doors, then jumped down and rolled her bike into the bright lobby. A flowing sign hanging over the front desk said SILVER BEACHES MANOR. A woman in a teal nurse’s uniform scowled at Sami’s bike and sent her to the rack outside the lobby. Tony was just coasting into the lot as she locked up.

  “Where did you learn to ride like that?” he panted. His face shone with sweat.