by Zoë Ferraris
Emma gave a muted squee of excitement while Herbie looked surprised.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Nisba said. She pulled open one of the kitchen cabinets, and a dozen parchments came spilling onto the floor. She sorted through them until she found the one she wanted, then kicked the others aside and brought the parchment to the worktable. “To communicate with my sister, I’m going to need a drop of my blood. It’s not much, but sometimes this kind of connection is very intense and it knocks me out. Open the parchment.”
Herbie unscrolled it while Nisba went back to the counter, yanked open a drawer of kitchen tools, and began clattering through it.
When the parchment was opened, they saw it was a chart of the constellation Eridanus.
“If this does knock me out,” Nisba went on, “then I’ll probably be out for a while, in which case you’re going to have to talk to her on your own.”
“We can do that,” Emma said.
“But you will not—until you promise to obey these rules.”
“Okay,” Emma said uncertainly.
“Do not tell her where we are. Do not tell her what happened during the battle or anything about the Strand we’re on. Do not arrange to meet with her anywhere near the Argh. We’re going to find a meeting place on the map.”
“Won’t she know those things already, since she can read your mind?” Herbie asked.
“I only know we’re on Eridanus,” Nisba said. “I don’t know specifics. Why do you think I spend all my time down here in the kitchen?”
She found what she was looking for—a hunting knife, black and shiny like a beetle’s shell. Its handle was shaped like a scorpion’s tail. She brought it to the table along with a small hand mirror, which she propped against a dish. Drawing up a chair, she sat down and rolled up her sleeve.
“Now we’re going to find a meeting place, and you’ll tell her to go there alone,” Nisba said. “Tell her I will be coming with you, so I will know if she is truly alone. And don’t you dare leave this ship until I regain consciousness—is that clear?”
They both nodded vigorously.
Nisba surveyed the tools before her and said, “There’s just one more thing we need. Memory water.”
“Oh no.” Emma slumped. “I splashed the last of it on your sister. I’m sorry about that, by the way.”
Nisba eyed them both with a bit of irritation. “We only need about a cup of water,” she said with deliberate slowness.
They both realized their mistake at the same time.
Herbie smacked his forehead. “Right. Okay.”
Emma was blushing. “We’ll be right back.”
They raced topside, grabbed a bucket from the deck, tied a rope to the handle, and lowered the bucket hastily down the side of the ship and into the waters of the Strand below. Although the water sloshed out of the bucket on its journey up the hull, they managed to get a sufficient supply of memory water.
“Careful not to touch it,” Herbie said.
“Well, you know, I am kind of thirsty.”
Herbie opened his mouth to protest but saw that she was teasing and rolled his eyes. With exquisite care, they made their way back to the kitchen, not spilling a single drop. Nisba was still sitting at the table where they’d left her.
“Good,” she said when they set the bucket on the floor. “Come here. Stand beside me. I’ve found a meeting place.” Looking over her shoulder, they saw that she’d unrolled another parchment beneath the chart of Eridanus. The second parchment was blank. “My sister is one day behind us. Her ship doesn’t have wings, so she had to transfer to a Draconi vessel. She told the ship’s captain that she was on Queen’s business, so no one’s asking questions. The ship is called the Hargrim. It entered Eridanean waters a few hours ago and set down just behind the blockade. They’re sailing toward us, but they’ve just sent out scouts. Birds, from what I can tell, but they’re not very good in the dark. They’ll be lucky to find us, but there’s always the chance they do, so we’d better act quickly.”
“Wait,” Herbie said. “Where are we supposed to meet your sister?”
“Oh, right.” Nisba drew the Eridanus chart closer and pointed to a small inlet on the Strand behind them called Skullax Cove. “I think it’s close enough that we can get there in an hour of rowing.”
“What about your sister?” Emma asked.
“She’s on a Draconi ship. She can get there in minutes.”
“But if they’re flying, won’t they be able to see the Argh?” Herbie asked.
“No, not in this darkness. Now, if I faint, I’ll be out for an hour or more. Tell Tema you’ll meet her in two hours’ time. That gives me an hour to come around, and then we have an hour to get there. No matter what you do, don’t tell Lovesey about this. He’ll try to stop it.”
Herbie nodded, but Emma was rather surprised by this. “Why?” she asked.
“Because he’d rather die than put me in danger,” Nisba said, a bit grumpily. She picked up the knife and slid the case off, revealing a sharp, glistening blade.
“Uh…what are you doing?” Herbie asked, looking a bit sick.
“I just need a few drops of blood,” Nisba said. “This knife used to belong to my sister. Anything I can use that can strengthen my connection to her will make this conversation stronger.” With a swift, certain slice, Nisba cut her palm. A few drops of blood pooled on her hand and she held it over the table, squeezing the blood onto the parchment. Five drops landed there before she pressed a cloth to the wound.
Nisba looked into the hand mirror and said, “I need to see my sister.” She stared at her face, whispering sideways to Emma and Herbie, “The mirror helps me visualize her since she looks just like me.”
“Hand me a ladle,” she said. Herbie rushed to obey and came back with a serving spoon. With this, Nisba scooped a small quantity of the memory water from the bucket and dribbled it over the blood on the parchment. When the greenish water hit the blood, it turned a deep and cavernous black, spreading across the paper like a gentle wind stirring the sails. It began to cause movement, and soon they could make out shapes. Gaping at the parchment, they saw the first flicker of light.
Emma only noticed how this was affecting Nisba when she started sliding out of her chair. Emma yelped and grabbed her shoulders just in time. With Herbie helping, they managed to lower her gently to the floor. They propped her head on a chopping block and made sure she was breathing before going back to the parchment.
Like paper in a photo-developing solution, the parchment before them slowly resolved into a picture of Captain Gent. They seemed to have a view of her office. It was a small space filled with dark wooden furniture and cluttered with books and cabinets. Gent was sitting at a desk and looking into a jelly jar filled with beetles. On the wall behind her, an apothecary cabinet displayed hundreds of bottles of insects, most of which seemed to be moving so that the wall itself appeared to be alive. Herbie gave a shudder.
Gent picked up the jar. “Time for a bite to eat?” she asked sweetly. Opening the lid just a crack, she stuck her finger inside. Immediately two beetles leapt onto it, scanning her skin with their antennae, trying to decide whether or not to bite. The bigger one made up his mind and dug his pincers into the soft spot on her fingertip. She sucked in her breath, shook him loose, and quickly sealed up the jar. Sitting forward, she shut her eyes and took a deep, languid breath. Her rich red hair tumbled into her face.
Emma and Herbie exchanged a horrified look.
“Do you think she can hear us?” Emma whispered.
At the sound, Gent shot up. She leapt from the desk and came striding toward them. They both took a step back.
When she recognized them, she let out a short cackle. “Well, well,” she exclaimed gleefully. “The little Miss Brightstoke and her boyfriend. I was wondering what my sister was up to. I knew she was plotting something.”
Herbie gave Emma a sideways look. “Are we, like, on her wall or something?”
“Yes,” Gent said. “Yo
u are on my wall. You are, in fact, inside my mesmer. And if my mesmer guard notices, she’s going to hunt you down and report your location to the Queen, so I suggest you get to the point. I take it you’ve come to beg for your mother’s life.”
“No,” Emma said crudely. “I came to tell you that I know you have the Pyxis.”
Gent kept a steely gaze, but they could tell that the news unsettled her.
“And I know how to activate it,” Emma went on. “I was the one who did it two weeks ago, when we were still on Monkey. If you don’t believe me, you can ask the sailors of the Arcturus Venture.”
This name seemed to tighten Gent’s face even more.
“I could activate it right now if I wanted to,” Emma went on.
Gent’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fine,” Emma said. “I’ll show you, then.” She shut her eyes and pretended to concentrate on starting the Pyxis.
“Wait!” Gent looked furious. “I don’t believe you, but I can’t take that chance.” She drew in her breath and said in a cold voice, “What do you want?”
“My mother,” Emma said. “I want her back. Now. And if you don’t give her back, then I will activate the Pyxis, and I will make sure that the Queen knows exactly how you lied to her. I will keep activating it until every ship in the galaxy has pinned you in a corner and you won’t be able to get away.”
Gent now looked suitably enraged. “You can have your mother back,” she spat. “And you can try to keep her alive yourself.” She said these last words bitterly.
The picture began to dissolve.
Emma looked at Herbie in panic. “It’s fading!”
“Maybe we need more memory water.” He grabbed the spoon and set another few drops on the parchment, but it didn’t help. “We might need more blood,” he said.
They both looked at Nisba.
“We can’t cut her,” Emma said.
“I know you’re on Eridanus.” Gent’s voice came through. “Tell me where you are.”
“No way,” Herbie said. “We’re going to meet you. And you’d better come alone, because Nisba’s coming with us, and she’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Where is my sister?”
“None of your business,” Emma said. “Meet us in Skullax Cove in two hours. If you don’t bring my mother, I’ll activate the Pyxis.”
“Two hours is too long,” Gent said. “We have a Draconi fleet coming, and if they see you, it’s all over. Meet me in one hour…otherwise, nothing.”
Gent faded again. They could still see a vague outline of her form, but the voice was gone.
Emma spun on Herbie. “She said more navy is coming. We have to leave now.”
“But we can’t,” he said. “Nisba won’t wake up for another hour.”
“Then we have to go without her.”
“She said not to do that!” he protested, but Emma was already dashing out of the room. “Emma, wait!” She heard him calling, but she was through the dining hall. In the hallway, he came running up behind her. “We can’t DO this,” he panted. “Nisba’s the only one who will know if Gent is going to meet us alone or not!”
Emma kept up her brisk pace. “You heard what she said—she can’t take the chance that I might activate the Pyxis.”
“But wait, we—” He stopped abruptly, and she turned around.
“What?” she said.
“We didn’t ask for proof that your mom is even alive.”
Emma waved her hand. “Of course she’s alive.”
“You’re being very cavalier—”
She cut him off. “She’s alive.”
He could see from her expression that it was pointless to argue.
“Wait—wait—wait!” he said, forcing Emma to stop. “I’ve got to get something. We’re going to need it. Will you promise me you won’t leave this ship without me?”
There was such an earnest demand in his eyes that she couldn’t help nodding. “Okay,” she said.
“You promise?”
“Yes, but hurry!”
“Wait!” he said. “One more thing. You have to give me the Pyxis.”
She looked dumbfounded. “Why?”
“We can’t bring it when we meet Gent. She might get her hands on it. I’ll hide it here while you go get a rowboat. I know a good hiding place.”
“I don’t think that’s such—”
“You have to,” Herbie said.
She knew he was right. Reluctantly, she slid the Pyxis off her neck and handed it to him. He tucked it into his pocket, and giving her a final look, turned and ran off.
The cargo hold was empty when Emma arrived. She went to the cargo doors and hauled them open, looking down at the waterline. It was not too far to lower a rowboat. With clever use of ropes, they could swing down into the rowboat and they’d be off.
A noise above startled her and she looked up to see Crowler still hanging limply at the bow and muttering to himself. She hadn’t realized before how close he was to the cargo doors. Whatever she did, she would have to be quiet about it.
After carefully shutting the doors, she raced around, looking for a suitable rowboat, but there was none. Not so much as a canoe remained in the hold. The Arghs had used every scrap of spare wood to seal up the hole in the ship’s hull. Emma grew increasingly frantic as she tossed aside canvases, desperately searching every corner, hoping fervently that something had been left behind.
A renewed bout of despair was just sweeping over her when Herbie arrived with Santher and Laika on his heels.
“We can’t go alone,” he said, forestalling Emma’s protest. “We can’t row for an hour all by ourselves. We’ll need help.”
“Herbie told us everything,” Laika said. “We want to come.”
Santher noticed Emma’s desperate, speechless state and said to everyone, “But there are no more rowboats. We used them all!”
Herbie was horrified.
“What do you mean?” Laika said. “There are plenty of rowboats.”
They stared at her in amazement. Laika raced to the cargo doors and pulled them open. “Get me something to throw,” she said. Santher came up with a broken hammer. “No, not that! It’s too heavy. Something else, like a small stone.”
Herbie fished in his backpack and drew out some vostok.
“Perfect!” Laika said. Emma was beginning to understand what Laika had in mind. She went over to the doors just as Laika tossed the vostok at Crowler. He jolted and opened his eyes, looking around.
“Another one!” Laika said. “I have to keep hitting him.” Herbie handed her the whole sack of vostok.
Laika threw another one at Crowler, and he snorted. The third one caused a mewl—and a silent cringe from Laika, who didn’t like throwing stones at animals—and by the fourth one he was howling properly again.
It took a few minutes, but soon the rowboats began appearing out of the mist. They came like dolphins, a little shy and mostly curious. Slowly they gathered around the ship’s bow, falling alongside the Argh. When Crowler made a particularly loud roar, they startled and scattered briefly, but they came back.
“That’s brilliant!” Herbie said. Grinning, Santher was already tying up a line they could use to lower themselves into one of the rowboats. Emma went first. She grabbed the rope with both hands and slid carefully into the boat.
“Gentle,” Laika warned. “It’s alive, you know.”
When Emma set her foot on the boat, it gave a small start, but it didn’t seem to mind her presence. She motioned the others down. First Herbie came, then Santher, and finally Laika. Once Laika had stopped pelting Crowler with vostok, he settled into an unhappy mewl, and by the time she was in the rowboat, Crowler had fallen into glum silence. The rowboats, seemingly at a loss, began to disperse into the mist around them. Their own rowboat sat nervously by the side of the Argh.
“How do we make it move?” Herbie whispered.
Laika was studying the boat, touching its interior walls and wiggl
ing its oars. It didn’t seem to be responding. “I think it’s kind of like a Pegasus horse,” she said. “It’s waiting for a command.”
“Take us to Skullax Cove,” Santher ordered.
The rowboat didn’t move. Laika clucked her tongue. “That was too harsh,” she said.
“Take us to Skullax Cove, please,” Santher said.
Nothing happened.
“I think it needs a gentler touch.” Laika ran her hand along the edge of the hull, but the rowboat seemed to find this annoying and it gave a stiff jerk, nearly throwing them overboard. Everyone gasped.
“Take us to Skullax Cove now, you sack of maggots!” Santher snapped.
With a gentle whip, the rowboat took off. Everyone stared in surprise as it turned away from the Argh and sailed in the direction of Rigel.
“That was incredible,” Herbie said.
He and Emma were sitting at the bow. Emma was finally feeling a little hope—but it was offset by a lot of anxiety. This could be the craziest thing she’d ever done.
“You were so tough with Gent,” he went on. “I mean, it was like you were an adult, the way you talked to her.”
“Thanks.”
“You kind of reminded me of your dad,” he said. “A little scary.”
Emma managed a half smile. On any other day, the idea would have thrilled her.
“And what the hell with those bugs in Gent’s office?” he asked. “Did you see the way she let them bite her, and then she was enjoying it? She’s like a bug addict.”
“She’s probably a bug dealer too.”
Herbie laughed. “I want a bumper sticker: ‘Just say no to bugs.’ ”
Emma was glad he was talking. They had been sailing for almost an hour, and she kept feeling frantic. Were they going to miss Gent? Would she be there with Mom? Was Mom still alive? Was the rowboat even going in the right direction? It was hard to tell where they were in all the mist, but the occasional island appeared on one side or another, glowing green in the water’s eerie luminescence. For every one of these concerns, her friends had given her reassurance. She took comfort from their confidence.
“I think we should give the rowboat a name,” Laika said.
